


Annoise

by StoriesFromDust



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesFromDust/pseuds/StoriesFromDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic focuses on the relationship between Lysandre and Professor Sycamore, and how that relationship was affected as Lysandre's plots were formed and unfolded. It is set before the events of X and Y and tries to explain and provide backstory for game canon. You can expect moments of cuteness, sex, drama, angst and humor. Lysandre's scientists also play an important role.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Met

**Author's Note:**

> My first work of romantic fiction in quite some time, let me know what you think! I fell into the Lysandre/Sycamore ship after I had already finished the game, so please let me know if I break canon accidentally. I am open to plot hook suggestions if you have them. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told from Celosia's perspective, Lysandre and Celosia attend an Exhibit opening at the Lumiose museum. We meet Bryony, and get the first hint of Sycamore's interest.

“This event is dreadful." Lysandre muttered to Celosia, at his arm. “I was expecting less posturing and fewer...Ice sculptures" Lysandre stood in a quiet corner of the Lumiose museum in suit and tie, crouching slightly. The much shorter Celosia had the benefit of heels to reach acceptable whispering height.

“Oh these museum things are always horrid." Celosia muttered back, adjusting her glasses, “they take the focus away from the art and history and focus it all on showing each other how much they love art and history." 

“How can you tolerate these?" 

“The paycheck helps" Celosia said with a grin and a soft jab at his ribs. “But there are a few bright stars among the masses." She gently straightened the bottom edge of her suit jacket and smoothed out her pinstripe skirt. “There she is now, in fact" Celosia nodded towards the other edge of the hall.

Lysandre stood back to his full height and Celosia took him by the elbow. These events were certainly not Lysandre’s speed, Celosia knew, events in general rarely were. Thats why he hired her at all. She knew how to lead him without looking like she was leading, and she could spot the bores, annoyances, and worthless attendees at a distance. Celosia took great pride in her job and was actually having a wonderful time in spite of the event. Lysandre’s dark, biting attitude was a welcome change from the kiss-asses she had to meet on his behalf.

This event marked the opening of the Natural History of Pokemon display at the museum. The exhibit boasted several fossils and rare evolutionary stones, as well as art depicting the companionship of man and pokemon throughout the ages. Unfortunately the main event hall opted to have champagne, hors devours, and garish decorations in place of anything valuable.

With only a minor detour around some stuffy old professors the two soon reached the far end of the hall. Celosia caught the eye of her target with a smile and a wave. “Bryony, good to see you again." Celosia stretched out her hand in welcome, and kissed the girl lightly on the cheek. “I am so glad you were able to make it this evening." She stepped aside and gestured to her side, “This is Lysandre, my boss. Sir, Bryony is a graduate student at the Lumiose University." 

“A pleasure," Lysandre said. He extended his hand, but kept his face blank.

Bryony grasped his hand enthusiastically, “Hello! Its wonderful to meet you!" Just by appearances Celosia knew they would get along well. Bryony was wearing a sharp black cocktail dress and tall flat bottomed boots, even so, she was still at least as tall as Celosia with her three additional inches of heel. Her blonde hair had a shock of green, to match her thick framed glasses.

“Bryony is conducting research on the history of legendary pokemon in the region." Celosia offered, to get the conversation going.

“Ah, wonderful." Lysandre smiled at Bryony, “I would be interested in knowing your thoughts on Yevetal’s role in the wars of long past." 

“Oh it is actually very interesting, current theories suggest…" 

 _Interesting is a relative term_ , Celosia thought. Lysandre was certainly interested, and that was good enough. Celosia instead turned her gaze towards the crowd. The room had started to thin as the guests who actually liked art and history began to head to the main exhibit hall. The ratio of interesting folks to posturing snobs was rapidly falling out of favor. The snobs would make a beeline for Lysandre, given the opportunity. Wealth, power, and intelligence was a magnet for hangers-on. Celosia began to strategize their escape as she returned to the conversation.

“And you have published this paper already?" Lysandre asked.

“Oh no, not quite yet, I am still working on the final draft." Bryony laughed.

“Ah-ha, naturally that is why I haven’t had the chance to read it." Lysandre said. Over his shoulder Celosia could see that a group of stuffy looking men had broken off from their group and were walking straight towards them. _Shit_ , Celosia thought.

“Well, before I send it to peer review, I can send you a copy. I’d be interested in your opinions." Bryony offered, opening the contact menu of her holocaster.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful." Lysandre recited his contact information. “Is your work funded privately, or by the city, if you don’t mind?" 

Bryony’s eyes lit up as only a scientist's would at mention of funding. “We don’t get nearly enough funding from the city, I could do so much more in the private sector." To Celosia’s eye, it was clear that the word ‘funding" had reached the ear of the approaching group.

“Send me that paper this weekend, and I’ll see what we can scour up at my laboratory." Lysandre offered.

 _Got her_ , Celosia thought, checking off a mental list with enthusiasm. From her look, Bryony had just checked off a similar list in her own mind. Celosia reached for Lysandre’s arm to escape before…

“Bryony!" An older man exclaimed with a pompous air. _Too slow_ , Celosia frowned. “Your professor was just telling us about you." He slapped the shoulder of a handsome man with wavy black hair. The older man turned to face Lysandre, and addressed Bryony without looking at her further, “Do introduce me to your friend."  _A clumsy attempt_ , Celosia thought, _You know him damn well enough_.

Lysandre took his cue from Celosia without much more than a glance and adopted a curt expression. “Lysandre." 

“Ah-ha" the man smiled and began to introduce himself without the request being given. “Richard Timrell, Dean of the Lumiose University." He extended a hand which Lysandre shook once. “What brings you to an event such as this?" The dean asked.

“I was hoping to speak with Miss Bryony at my assistant’s advice," Lysandre motioned to Celosia, and she have a small curtsey. From the corner of her eye Bryony looked a little smug. “And we have spoken. So if you’ll excuse me." Lysandre began to turn away.

From the back of the group the black haired man chuckled. The dean, however, didn’t let the slight faze him one bit. He wheeled around to walk along side Lysandre  “Well as long as we’re all talking, I was wondering if you had heard about the new Center for Performing Arts that we are hoping to build at the college."  _Here we go…_ Celosia thought, stepping quickly to keep up and run damage control. Two professors continued onward behind the dean, but the black haired man hung back to talk to Bryony. Celosia made a mental note that that man was one of the good ones.

“Sir, if I may interject," Celosia addressed the dean, “I think it would be lovely to discuss this further, shall I arrange a luncheon where we can discuss the Performing Arts Center later this week?" 

The dean foolishly took this as a positive request, “Yes, wonderful, how does Monday work for you?" 

“I will make time in the schedule for it if need be." Celosia offered, careful not to imply that Lysandre would be present. She pulled out her schedule book, and the dean did the same “What venue shall I reserve?" With the dean’s attention held Celosia nodded slightly at Lysandre with a smile, and he stepped away gracefully.

After scheduling, the dean thought it best to gush on about the importance of the arts and his own hand in furthering the culture. It was difficult to escape, but Celosia was a professional.

Once free, she made short work of locating Lysandre once again. Surprisingly he was not off in a lonesome corner of the museum, but rather engaged in conversation with the professor from earlier. She would have walked over, but from the looks of it Bryony had just excused herself without more than a nod from either party. From a distance Celosia gauged the mood. The professor was laughing about something, and Lysandre was nodding with a smile in his eyes, if nowhere else. The professor rested a hand on Lysandre’s upper arm for a moment, guiding him down the hallway to the next exhibit, and the corner of Lysandre’s mouth twitched upward as he allowed himself to be led.

 _Interesting_ , Celosia thought, _I’ll need to follow up on that_. She turned her focus to Bryony instead and found her easily against the and greys and browns of the other attendees. She made her way over, not yet done with her evening,  “Bryony, wonderful job selling your work." She said, with a smile.

“Oh thank you. Do you think. well… Did I make a good impression do you think?" Bryony smiled, eyes wide.

“Oh yes, he would ask me to read the paper if he wasn’t sure." Celosia smiled “If you got him chatting, you have his interest. He has little time for anything less." Bryony’s shoulders relaxed and she sighed in relief. “Now, I make it a point to know all the folks at these events, so I’d like your assistance." Celosia offered her arm, and Bryony took it.

“Sure, with what?" Bryony asked as Celosia led her down the exhibit hallway.

“Tell me about that professor." Celosia nodded towards the pair.

Bryony laughed, “Ah, all the girls ask that about Professor Sycamore, and some of the boys too. If only I wasn’t his student..." She smiled. Celosia gave her an ‘are-you-serious?" over the glasses look. “oh shut up, Cela" Bryony giggled. “He’s a charmer for sure." 

“So you work together on your Legendary research?" Celosia asked.

“No no, I worked with him briefly on evolution research, and he teaches a class on humane pokemon care during laboratory testing that all researchers are required to re-take each year for the duration of their work at the school." Bryony explained. “No one ever complains even when they have to repeat the class." She paused for a moment and continued on with a low gossipy tone. “I bet Professor Sycamore trying to pick him up." 

Celosia furrowed her eyebrows, Why would someone want to lift up… ooh. “You think so?" She asked, matching Bryony’s tone.

“Mr. Lysandre is pretty handsome." Bryony said, letting her sentence trail off.

“Just Lysandre." Celosia corrected. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone bold enough." She continued.

“Oh, he’s bold enough." Bryony nodded.

“So he tries this often?" Celosia asked.

“Tries? He _succeeds_ often." Bryony said.

Celosia glanced back at her boss and the professor, laughing, as he reached up and gave Lysandre a playful push on the upper arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Mini comic of the last little bit of the chapter](http://31.media.tumblr.com/29188d8e604ca8df66e82065a4600ad2/tumblr_mw4ms5uvdG1t0f5y4o1_500.png)  
>  (by me) 
> 
>  
> 
> [Here is a picture of Lysandre and Celosia Gossiping, what bitches! ](http://25.media.tumblr.com/eaadf04a6ecb8d4bd9a7b6913e18cd03/tumblr_mwzam9CaZD1t0f5y4o1_500.png)  
> (By me)
> 
>    
> [ Introducing Bryony](http://25.media.tumblr.com/f75e05a390957b24f613df0343278e68/tumblr_mz05u63IGx1qm8n8to1_500.png)  
> ( [Fanart from animecreator on Tumblr!](http://animecreator.tumblr.com/))


	2. The Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sycamore flirts via holocaster message (Holo-sexting?) And Lysandre gets revenge for it.
> 
> Sycamore shows his true colors, but Lysandre can't see them over the holocaster. [/lame joke]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually the first thing I wrote, but it seemed to tacky to lead in with such flagrant flirtations.

In a large dressing room of his favorite boutique Augustine Sycamore sat flipping through his Holocaster contact list. He decided to cover his bases; Dimitri was interested for sure, but might be busy with work, Gabrielle was going to be a hard sell and a fun challenge, but might not be the best for this strategy, Lysandre was a wildcard. After meeting at the Lumiose Museum last week they had talked for hours. The younger businessman had kept it professional yet had not ruined the mood, Sycamore found him hard to read. But... he was fashion savvy and rich to boot, worth a try. The professor looked around at his shirt options and chose a cotton buttondown. Considering his list, he would need to keep the message open ended, non-specific, and maintain a little plausible deniability. There was a chance that he would get no replies, of course, but adding too many more meant risking an overabundance. That had happened before and it really sucked all the fun out.

 

 

 

The Geosenge contract was proving to be more tiresome than he had originally expected. Lysandre adjusted his reading glasses, took a sip of coffee, and marked another line in red. He looked over to Kisai, his Lilteo, asleep on top of his cat tree by the window. He would have preferred to be training right now, as it was he had skipped for the second day in a row. He forced his eyes back to the contract. _WHEREAS, in order to induce the Company to enter into the Purchase Agreement and to induce the Investors to invest funds in the Company pursuant to the Purchase Agreement, the Investors and the Company hereby agree …_ ugh.The familiar tones of his holocaster rescued him, and Lysandre sighed with relief.

He started the ‘cast, surprised and pleased to see professor Sycamore in the message. Lysandre had worried, mildly, that he had come across as a bother with his questions about the professor’s research. It was fascinating work to be sure, and coming from such a man as Augustine, it was a true pleasure to listen.

The message began, “I need a little expert fashion advice, what do you think of this shirt?" the professor stepped back and posed briefly, hands on hips. The shirt was a horrible cut for this man’s build. Lysandre knitted his eyebrows together, wishing that his design team was done with the beta for full-color Holocasters. Lysandre supposed that he had no choice but to leave these contracts, how awful! But his assistance was needed desperately. He pressed ‘reply." 

 

 

Augustine’s holocaster beeped only a minute later, as he was admiring a black silk shirt that he was sorely tempted by, despite the price. Dimitri’s face popped into view, he had obviously recorded the reply from the bathroom at his work..

“You look cute in anything." Dimitri said, smirking with his eyebrows raised. “You should show me in person after I get out of work." 

Augustine pursed his lips, and his holocaster beeped again, it was a text only reply from Gabrielle. It simply said: “No." 

He sighed, fun ruined, when his holocaster beeped again. He was a little shocked to have actually gotten a quick reply from Lysandre, figuring that would be more of a slow burn.

Lysandre’s face was neutral as it popped into view, He had an intense stare, made stronger by his sharply styled beard and hair. Surprisingly the man was wearing glasses, giving a judgemental air to him, but there was a hint, a possibility, a glimmer, of a smile. “The cut of that shirt does not suit a man with your slim build. And make sure that it is blue." The message ended. Augustine tapped his finger to his cheek and looked around the dressing room for something new.

 

 

The sun was just setting and Lysandre loved to watch the lights of Lumiose come on over the city from his living room. With his feet on the coffee table he leaned back into the leather sofa, sipping from his mug. Beside him the holocaster beeped with a new message. He leaned forward and weaved his fingers together to watch.

This time the shirt was a proper cut, and obviously a darker shade which would pair well with the man’s eyes and hair. “I think this one is better, do you?" the recorded Sycamore stretched up his arms to look at the sleeves, and in the process revealed that the bottom of the shirt had not been fully buttoned. It was… rather inviting to say the least. Lysandre’s eyebrows raised. This Sycamore fellow had a bit of a reputation, Celosia had warned him as much. Lysandre wondered how aware of it the man was, was this intentional, or was it just his nature? Sycamore looked back at the camera with a wide and honest smile, “and why blue?" 

 

 

Augustine had gone through all of the clothing in the shop by now, and couldn’t reasonably stay in the dressing room much longer. Luckily Lysandre’s reply came quickly once again. Sycamore took note that the projection of Lysandre was leaning forward and his glasses were gone. “That shirt is the correct fit, and I suspect the designer is Annoise? The rest of her fall collection is very good." The slightest tilt of his head to the right, eyebrows a hair higher than normal. “Blue will accentuate your eyes." 

Augustine smirked. They were quick replies, but it would still be a slow burn. Augustine wondered if Lysandre thought he was being coy, but it was too obvious, an opportunity for a little evil.

 

 

The holocaster beeped again, and Lysandre had to put in a little effort to wipe the smirk from his face before he pressed play. Sure, Sycamore couldn’t see him, but it was best not to get into the habit of displaying his emotions so obviously on his face.

“Thanks for your help!" Sycamore smiled, and held up the boutique bag. He was once again dressed in his plain lab coat and work shirt. Lysandre frowned, the message ended, and his frown deepened.

 

___

 

“Sir, I have laid out your options for the Parfum Banquet this evening. I chose a more Modest selection so as not to overshadow your host." Lysandre’s stylist bowed slightly.

“Thank you Mable" Lysandre said over his mug of tea. It was important to look his best this evening, Many Lumiose elites would be in attendance.

“Please give me a call when you are ready for your styling." Mable smiled as she shut the door behind her. Lysandre’s hair was already styled in his trademark mane, of course, but a full wash and re-work would be best for the banquet.

Kisai was curled up in Lysandre’s lap, purring quietly. The Parfum Palace was a historical relic, built just after the war of his ancestors. Gaining entrance to more than the designated tourist spots was uncommon, and Lysandre hoped Celosia could talk their way there from the banquet. Such historical significance was preserved in those halls, just maybe there was a clue about his ancestry. What would make someone act out as they had during the war 3,000 years ago? Lysandre had always been curious, but the history books were so biased.

Kisai complained as Lysandre stood, forcing him the vacate his master’s lap. With an annoyed ‘rrow' he returned himself to his luxury ball. Lysandre chuckled, such a spoiled attitude.

Four suits had been hung next to his bedroom mirror. Each from a different designer. Lysandre scanned them carefully, checking for flaws in the stitching. Of course, Mable would have done that already, but Lysandre liked to be safe. His eyes passed over the Annoise suit, a deep black with red trim and modest fur lining at the cuff. Annoise… hm.

It was well worth a shot.

 

The interns were gone for the weekend so Professor Sycamore had taken the opportunity to revel in his quiet lab and get some real work done. His research on evolution was taking an interesting turn, It was a constant mystery why pokemon, sometimes known to scientists for years and years, suddenly developed new evolutionary lines. Sycamore’s particular research on evolutionary stones had revealed a new stone that showed all the signs of…

His holocaster beeped to life on his desk. With his eyes still burning holes in his notes Professor Sycamore pressed play. Unfortunately Lysandre’s deep bass tones made short work of his attention and Augustine’s eyes snapped to the ‘cast.

“I need to pick a suit for tonight’s banquet." Lysandre stood back from the camera to give a full view of the suit. It was a dark color with a different shade in the trim, accentuating the angles of Lysandre’s body. He brought his hand to rest under his chin and said “This is an Annoise original, what do you think?" The message ended, Augustine smirked.

 

Lysandre’s holocaster beeped.

Sycamore was leaning back with an expression of open curiosity. “It looks amazing, as I would expect. Are there other options? May I have a little fashion show?" 

 _Fuck yes you can have a fashion show_ , Lysandre thought.

 

 

Augustine had only just finished setting Lysandre’s ringtone to be more interesting than the standard beep when the new tone chimed to life on its own, a flurry of violin and a deeper slow cello. He pressed play.

Lysandre stood, with one hand in his pocket, the other unbuttoned the suit jacket and opened it to show the lining. The silk shirt was tight across his chest. All in all the suit was a simple affair without even an accompanying tie or cravat. Lysandre only said “This is the Zaran" before the message ended.

Augustine wondered for a moment if he was expected to wait, or to reply, when the holocaster rang again.

This time the suit was more intricate, it was paler in the ‘cast, probably dark gray in real life. The jacket had no buttons, Lysandre removed it to reveal silk lining and a thin vest underneath. Augustine’s eyes were drawn down to the seam in the side of the pant, accentuated to a bold stripe. A cravat was tucked into the vest. “The Nikoli" He said, and the message ended.

Augustine was leaning against the desk, head resting in his hand, vaguely aware that he should get some work done while he waited. Fruitless moments passed and the holocaster rang again.

“The final suit" Lysandre said. This one was pitch black with a sharply defined collar. The cut of the jacket was longer than the previous, Lysandre turned to show the back, tailored to fit perfectly. It was bold and elegant. “This is the Galaine." He smiled. “Please let me know which you prefer." 

 

Admiring himself with a careful eye Lysandre knew that it had to be the Nikoli, even though it was paler than he normally wore.

The reply rang and Lysandre hit play quickly. Sycamore was leaning forward, chin resting on the palm of his hand. He was smiling carefully. Was his shirt unbuttoned so far in his previous message? “I like the Galaine, but I didn’t get a good look at the pants, can I see just those?" Lysandre’s eyebrows raised as the message ended. He looked around his empty room, a little embarrassed, and perhaps somewhat surprised.

 

Biting his lower lip, Augustine pressed play on the reply.

Lysandre’s voice was noticeably deeper “Sure" he replied. Augustine could have melted right there and his hand slid up to his ear as he leaned forward. Lysandre stood in the Galaine and began to unbutton the jacket, pulled it off, and tossed it aside carelessly. His hand lowered and he grasped the bottom button the the untucked shirt, opened it with a flick and moved to the next button. Abruptly he checked his watch, sighed, smiled, and said with mock remorse “Ah damn. I appreciate your input Professor, but If I take much longer I’ll be late to meet my stylist." The message ended.

Professor Sycamore stared at the space where the ‘cast once displayed, frowning in abject disappointment "... You rat bastard." He muttered.

 

“I’m surprised you went with the Galaine over the Annoise to be honest." Mable said, looking at the hanging suit as she washed Lysandre’s hair in the warm water.

“I was actually interested in the Nikoli." Lysandre said.

“Oh yes. I really do think vests are making a strong comeback." Mable said, making a mental note. “So why the Galaine?" 

Lysandre sighed and smiled, “Revenge." 

Mable raised an eyebrow. “Do tell." She said conspiratorially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading thus far,  
> [ Here's a drawing of Lysandre's Fashion Show](http://25.media.tumblr.com/0a5ec7d49d961f522de1557031902dba/tumblr_mwae9f7AEy1t0f5y4o1_500.png)  
> (By me)
> 
>  
> 
> [ And Sycamore's Fashion Show](http://25.media.tumblr.com/c0692c2fc9c2e707fccef93c02f4a00a/tumblr_mz05u63IGx1qm8n8to2_500.png)  
> ( [Fanart from animecreator on Tumblr!](http://animecreator.tumblr.com/))


	3. A Horrible Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Sycamore flirts his way into the Parfum Banquet after party. Sir Wincott, the owner of Parfum Palace, is a dick. Lysandre has a terrible evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get a little characterization in on Lysandre's pokemon, but I got all swept up in the romance and action, next chapter perhaps! I tried really hard to find out the 'real' name of the guy who owns Parfum Palace, but found nothing, so I named him myself. If you know his name, let me know in the comments and I'll fix it. I am really loving tieing together loose bits of the game story!

“I am terribly sorry about this inconvenience, it is dreadfully embarrassing." Professor Sycamore leaned against the maitre d’s desk with an awkward smile. “I understand if you can’t, but it would be wonderful if you could help me." The woman, a young lady with a nametag that red ‘Jeanne' was shuffling through her ledger, a little flustered.

“But you have an invitation?" She asked, meekly.

Professor Sycamore pulled the invitation from his jacket pocket and handed it over. “I’m afraid it got lost in a stack of papers at the college, I only just realized that I never got to send the 'répondez s'il vous plaît.'" In actuality the invitation had belonged to his good friend at the Boutique de Couture In Lumiose. Augustine could always count on her to get an invitation to any big name event and fail to attend.

Jeanne looked over the blank RSVP, and then back to the professor. Augustine smiled innocently.

“Well I suppose since dinner is already ended, there won’t be much harm. Go ahead." Jeanne smiled.

“Oh thank you, my dear!" Professor Sycamore said with a grin, he leaned over and gave Jeanne a quick peck on the cheek, turning her face a bright crimson. Rather than embarrass her further Augustine turned on his heel and headed into the Parfum Palace. The mansion had an eerie feel to it tonight, Augustine had been here before with other tourists, but after hours the empty halls allowed for a terrible echo.

The decision to crash the party had been very last minute, but when his TA came into his office with a stack of tests to grade the excuse was out of his mouth before he was even aware of it. Staying late in the office for research was one thing, grading papers was another. Of course, the taxi ride over to Camphrier Town and up route 6 had made him miss the main banquet, but that was probably for the best.

Before long Augustine could hear the sounds of music and discussion ahead. The magnificent double doors had been propped open, and a sweet summer breeze was flowing into the halls of the palace. Augustine rounded the corner and was met with A lovely view of the back gardens.

The night sky was laced with hanging lanterns reaching across the full length of the gardens. On the right side a small group of musicians played an upbeat orchestral tune, attracting a meager audience. Attendees were dressed in elegant formal wear and had broken off into groups of 3 to 5, scattering throughout the gardens. The professor made short work of finding a waiter with champagne and began to glance around for familiar faces.

Lysandre was not a hard man to miss at any venue. His bright red flourish of hair was enough, but on top of that he stood at least six inches over any other given person. Augustine felt a little rush in his stomach when he saw that Lysandre was wearing the Galaine suit, and memories of earlier that evening forced themselves into his mind.

On Lysandre's right arm was a tall woman in a mocha cocktail dress. Her long blue hair was tied at the midpoint of her back in an extremely loose ponytail. They were linked at the elbow, and she was nothing but smiles. To Lysandre's left Professor Sycamore recognised Bryony, eccentric as ever in her wide rimmed glasses and loud green party dress. Augustine knew that Bryony was a social climber, but was surprised to see her blend in so neatly, and so quickly, at Lysandre's side. Finally, a prim and proper woman with steep heels and a tight bun of purple hair approached with champagne, one for herself, each of the other women, and Lysandre. She stood beside Bryony, watching the group like a mother-pidgeot.

As Lysandre lifted his champagne glass to his lips he caught sight of Augustine across the garden and for a sliver of a moment surprise flashed across his face, replaced quickly with that stoic professional mask. Augustine had seen that shift once before, When they had met at the Museum Opening. Then, it was a flash of insecurity when Augustine had leaned in close, but it had been covered with a confident mask just as quickly. Augustine nodded, with a smile, towards his target. Lysandre nodded in kind, tilting his head towards his group. An invitation to join.

"Professor," Celosia said in a welcoming tone, "I did not see you at the banquet!" She grasped his hand in a firm shake, "We would have made an effort to sit with you." She passed his hand over to Lysandre, who shook it as well.

"Ah, well, I found myself running late I'm afraid," The professor said.

"I believe you and Bryony are acquainted." Lysandre interjected, Augustine and Bryony shared a smile and a nod "Let me introduce Mable, my stylist. Mable, This is Professor Sycamore." Mable kept her grasp on Lysandre's arm even as she extended a hand to greet the professor.

"We've met actually." Mable said, and with a pang of realization, Augustine Sycamore shook her hand.

"Yes, wow, its been quite some time." he said, feigning a smile.

"Augustine was my TA while I was an undergrad at Lumiose University." Mable explained to the group. She thankfully failed to mention the part where they had slept together. Just the once, after finals had ended, nothing scandalous. Augustine may have been a flirt but he did not welcome drama into his life.

"Wonderful, then are you familiar with his work?" Lysandre asked.

"Oh, very." Mable said, with a teasing grin that only Augustine seemed to notice. She had been introduced as his stylist, however Augustine couldn't help but wonder if there was more. She seemed so firmly rooted at her boss' side.

"Professor Sycamore gave the the advice on which of your four suits to wear this evening." Lysandre said, glancing away from the group at no one in particular.

"Ahhhh-ha" Mable said, eyes fixed on Augustine "I see. I hear it was quite a difficult decision, professor." She smiled, Augustine furrowed his brow.

"Not that difficult." Augustine gave her a saccharine smile which Mable returned.

"Cela, Is that Sir Wincott? By the fountain?" Mable said abruptly turning her attention away from the group.

"Oh, yes." Celosia said, eyes darting back and forth between Mable and the Professor, "I was just trying to figure out an excuse to talk to him." She said absently.

Mable slipped from Lysandre's to Celosia's arm like silk. "Well, he is wearing a lovely suit from our own Lumiose Boutique de Couture that I happen to want to discuss with him. Shall we?"

"Perfect." Celosia nodded and they began to walk towards the fountain.

"Bre, you too," Mable called back.

"I don't want to talk about clothes." Bryony said with a little whine, but she followed none the less.

Augustine allowed for one awkward beat to punctuate the girl's departure before he turned to Lysandre. "You told her?" He asked, careful not to accuse.

Lysandre took a quick sip of champagne and shrugged. For retribution Augustine allowed the awkward silence to stretch for several more moments.

"Would you like to have a walk around the gardens?" Augustine offered after enough time had passed.

"Hm?" Lysandre seemed to snap out of his own thoughts, "ah yes, it would be nice to get away from the crowd." Though The professor failed to see what 'crowd' he could be referring to. The large garden was more than enough space to accommodate the guests. With a smile Augustine offered his arm. Lysandre's eyes flicked around the party at the other guests, and did not take the offer. Augustine couldn't help but feel a little hurt, but he brushed it aside.

The gardens contained four simple hedge mazes, the maze to their immediate right did not offer walkways wide enough for two, so they chose a simpler one towards the back of the gardens. When they entered Augustine glanced around, and after seeing no other guests, decided to take Lysandre's arm, rather than offer. His suspicions were confirmed when Lysandre tensed, glanced about for himself, saw no one, and then allowed him to remain.

Augustine's first instinct was to ask why. A garden party had the potential to be a more... conservative environment, but Lysandre did not seem like the type to bow to the judgements of others. What, exactly, would make him hesitate? Upon further reflection The professor decided that badgering his date with uncomfortable questions would not lead them to the evening he was looking for.

"It is unfortunate that they had to block out the stars with these tacky lanterns." Lysandre offered to the silence, staring upward. "It would have been nice to see, since we are out in the country and all."

Augustine rather liked the lanterns, they reminded him of late night barbeques with his family in the summer. Rather than offer that tidbit Augustine said "Do you not get out into the country often?"

"Rarely." Lysandre sighed, "Sadly, I'm not a big fan of the city, everyone is packed together so tightly. It's only really nice from a distance."

"A distance?" Augustine asked.

"Ah well, I must admit, I like watching the lights turn on at Prism tower from my office." Lysandre said with a chuckle. "but I prefer the stars."

"There is too much light pollution all over Kalos to really get a good look." Augustine said sadly. "The best I have found is at the Sea Spirit's Den in Azure bay, but you have to surf there."

"That sounds lovely. Did you go there for research?" Lysandre asked.

"Yes, earlier this year. My team scoured as many caves as possible all over Kalos, looking for new evolutionary stones. Unfortunately there isn't much to be found out that way besides stars and water."

"You able to find other leads I hope?"

"Yes, I am drafting up a project plan to dig deeper into the Glittering Caverns early next year. I was able to find the most curious stones..." Augustine paused, "Ah, but that isn't finalized yet, so if you would please not mention it. I'd rather not have another department swooping in on my lead."

"Consider it safe with me."

"So you stay in the city for work?" Augustine asked, "You can't telecommunicate?"

"It's important to me to maintain a presence with my staff, I like to meet with all new hires first hand. Not to mention my lab work, research, and the cafe."

"The cafe?" Augustine asked, curious.

Lysandre allowed a small smile. "A secret for you to keep as well, I am buying property by Magenta Plaza for a small cafe of my own design. Just a little corporate diversification."

Augustine laughed, "You make it sound so cold. Cafes should be more romantic."

With a sarcastic scoff Lysandre said, "well, perhaps I will hang lanterns in it." Augustine laughed, gripping his companion’s arm a little more tightly.

By now they had reached the center of the hedge maze and stopped. Any direction would lead to an exit, and Augustine was not ready for that quite yet. "You didn't have an invitation to this party, did you." Lysandre said suddenly.

Augustine's shoulders slumped in mock defeat. "Guilty." He said, he hung his head in shame, but maintained a grin. At his side Lysandre shifted slightly,leaning over. Something soft brushed against Augustine’s cheek, airy and barely felt, like a cloak skimming across a tile floor. It made Augustine shiver, or perhaps it was the cool night air that did it. In either case Lysandre pulled away sharply, tense.

With a sinking feeling Augustine brought his hand to his cheek where Lysandre's beard had touched him, thinking of how to recover. He was just on the cusp of a solution when Lysandre spoke stiffly, his professionalism back in full force, “I’m sure Celosia had worked her magic by now. We should go, would you like to see the War Memorial?" 

Augustine frowned, and sighed, “Ah, yes" And they existed the garden, without touching.

 

___

 

Sir Wincott led the way down the dark hallway, Lysandre to his immediate right, Mable back on Lysandre's arm. Behind them Celosia walked briskly, expertly keeping up with the two men's longer strides. In the back Augustine trailed with Bryony, who was positively jittering with excitement. "This part of the palace has been closed to tourists for over a year." Bryony whispered to Augustine, "They have been remodelling the memorial, we are so lucky to get a first peek!" She positively squeaked. Augustine forced a grin.

At the front of the group their host spoke up "That old room was so stuffy and depressing, I'm sure you'll love the outcome, being a man of fashion." Sir Wincott nodded toward Lysandre. What a strange thing to say, Augustine thought, and a little touch of impending dread crossed his mind. Sir Wincott opened the great doors ahead of them and said with pride in his voice, "It was a stroke a luck to find a buyer for those old things." A buyer?

Even from a distance it was clear to see Lysandre tense with anger. The room before them was, in fact, not a war memorial at all. The walls were covered in bright white paint and tall mirrors. Pokemon shampoos, hair-dryers, ribbons and luxury balls lined the shelves. Photos of a furfrou with various stylings plastered every remaining space. At the center of the room was a pedestal where pokemon could sit and be groomed. With a flourish Sir Wincott tossed a pokeball into the air, releasing his precious furfrou into its garish salon.

In a flash Professor Sycamore saw Lysandre's hand push aside his suit jacket to grasp the third of four pokeballs clipped to his belt. Augustine's hand whipped out to stop the man and he found himself at the forefront of the group, hand on top of Celosia's, who in turn had her hand on Lysandre's, stopping him from attacking their host. Had Augustine been any farther away he doubt he would have heard Celosia whisper "Sir, I advise against this." With her eyes fixed at Lysandre.

Lysandre's face had dropped the professional mask entirely, his eyes narrowed into a piercing glare, mouth thin with rage, but his hand relaxed from its grip and his team remanded uncalled. Augustine and Celosia removed their hands, relaxing, danger having been averted.

"What the FUCK did you do?" Came a shrill yell from the back of the group. Celosia and Augustine both turned, surprised, to see Bryony, pokeball in hand, throwing arm straining against a scared Mable's grip.

"Holy shit, Bryony!" Mable said in a panicked squeak.

"This was a historical treasure." Bryony said with deep disgust.

"Bre" Celosia said with equal parts panic and care, "You look very thirsty, Mable will walk with you to get some water." She nodded towards the door angrily.

Bryony tore her glare from Sir Wincott and fixed it on Celosia but did not budge.

"A water for me as well," Lysandre said, still staring ahead, attempting to control his expression. Bryony's eyes darted to him, she hesitated but ultimately put her ball back into her handbag. Turning curtly, she took Mable by the arm and left.

Their host was only just now turning to see his guests but Lysandre had already transformed back into a professional, with Celosia smiling at his side. Sir Wincott smiled and called out "A water for me too dear!" Then with a quiet voice and a laugh, "Your help is wonderful to look at," He directed a smarmy glance at Celosia, "but I think you'll want to work on their rude vocabulary."

Augustine's eyes grew wide in shock, at a loss for words. A deep menacing voice broke the silence, "Excuse me? Miss Bryony is, in fact, a brilliant young woman who shares my passion for history. A welcome change from some." Lysandre stared pointedly at their host, dripping with rage. "Miss Mable is a trusted confidant of mine as well, and I may point out that she has a wonderful vocabulary, good enough to get her top Marks in Lumiose College of Sciences. And you would be wise to take Miss Celosia more seriously, as she does manage the finances on which your little tourist trap relies." Lysandre took Celosia by the arm, "I will thank you not to dismiss the company I keep so flagrantly."

"Apologies..." the man said, stupidly.

There was a flicker of tense silence before Celosia spoke up. "I should apologize, sir, but we were expecting to see the Memorial. I am sorry if I was not clear." She smiled warmly, "Did you say you had... sold it?" Celosia winced slightly.

"I have. It wasn't drawing in tourists like our other works. People don't want to come here to get depressed over the past." Sir Wincott waved his hand with a dismissive flip.

Celosia laughed, "Yes, the bottom line is always the most important." She let go of Lysandre's arm and knelt to scratch the furfrou under the chin. "And I see that the effort was not in vain, his fur is so soft."

"Why thank you!" Sir Wincott beamed with idiocy and pride.

The anger in the room began to ease as Celosia and their host discussed pokemon grooming techniques. Lysandre stood, stiff as a board, by the doorway, the newly calm mood failing to penetrate his steely expression. Augustine bumped his shoulder against the taller man, who tensed significantly at the contact. "Are you ok?" Augustine whispered.

Lysandre's cold blue eyes finally wrenched away from their host and moved to Augustine. "I apologize for my behaviour, it was unseemly." His cold expression remained, but Augustine knew that look was not meant for him.

"Nonsense," Augustine said with a smile, and whispered "He should be the one apologizing." He nodded toward their host, but Lysandre did not seem to be listening.

"I don't think I can stomach this much longer." Lysandre muttered quietly.

Celosia stood and exclaimed, "Well, sir, it was lovely talking with you this evening. I thank you very much for your transparency in this matter. I am afraid we really do need to get back to Lumiose, the drive back is rather lengthy." Augustine wondered if Lysandre had some kind of a communication device in his collar, or if he and Celosia were just psychicly linked.

Without a word Lysandre turned towards the dark hallway, leaving Celosia to the goodbyes. Augustine managed to call out a rushed "Thank you for a lovely evening," before racing after Lysandre. Lysandre had set a fast pace and Augustine struggled a little to keep up. They rounded two corners before coming upon Bryony and Mable.

Bryony's faltering whispers echoed loudly down the hallway, "I-I'm such a f-fucking idiot, he was going to h-hire me, and and now --"

"shh shh," Mable said hurriedly, as she caught sight of Lysandre. Augustine saw the streaked mascara being wiped away from the girl's face. If Lysandre noticed he did not seem to care. "To the car." He said, maintaining his steel intensity. Bryony looked about ready to curl up and die.

A tense silence chilled them all as they waited in the parking lot for the car to be pulled around. Augustine knew he needed to excuse himself, and yet was unable to speak up, his voice quashed by Lysandre's imposing presence. With a faint tap-tap-tap Celosia joined the silent group, hopefully having smoothed over their hasty escape.

Augustine couldn't help feeling impressed as a long black limousine pulled to a stop in front of them. "Well, ah, I'm afraid--" Augustine started to excuse himself.

"Do you have a car waiting?" Lysandre asked with a harsh edge to his voice.

"Ah, no. I took a taxi." Augustine said, feeling awkward.

"Good, you will ride back with us." There was no room to argue. Lysandre nearly shoved the parking assistant away from the door in his attempt to open it himself. With a short sharp nod towards the others Lysandre said "Ladies first."

Mable led, tailed by the sheepish Bryony, and finally Celosia. Augustine hesitated, but Lysandre nodded once, annoyed. The professor climbed into the limo.

Inside Augustine sat across from the girls on a backward facing seat. Lysandre entered last, and slammed the door behind him. He sat to Augustine's right and tapped on the tinted dividing glass. They began to move.

"Cela, notes please." He said. Celosia was one step ahead, already holding a large planner. Between each finger was a different writing device, red pen, blue pen, and pencil. Her preparedness was well timed, because Lysandre did not pause to let her prepare. "Discontinue all possible grants that we offer toward the Parfum Palace for preservation of historical records, or anything else for that matter. Clearly they do not use the money well." Celosia wrote quickly in blue, "Cancel my plans to meet with Xerosic next week, we have nothing to discuss as of yet." Her deft hands switched to red pen, Lysandre continued "Have the lawyers research misconduct laws for historical treasures, report by next Friday." Celosia switched back to blue. "Purchase that awful Furfrou salon in the city and tear it down, it's unsightly." Celosia wrote that in pencil. "Bryony." Lysandre barked, and the poor girl visibly flinched. "Crying is unbecoming, beauty and confidence begets success. You will tie up your loose ends at the college, and report to my labs by Thursday." The girl's eyes grew wide, "Cela, get a full access badge for Bre, she will be heading up our research into the purchaser of the memorial for our own acquisition." Celosia wrote a note in red and a note in blue.

"I have some contact information." Celosia said off hand, clipping a napkin to her pages.

"That's what I like to hear." Lysandre said. "Augustine, I trust you will do all you can to ease Miss Bryony's departure."

"Y- yea." Said the Professor.

"Have an apology gift sent to the professor for the trouble and the poor turn in our evening." Celosia wrote in blue. "Augustine, forget that I said that and thank you for your company. May, you were lovely tonight. Bre, I like your energy. Cela, excellent work." Lysandre finished with a harsh edge in his voice but it was clear that his words were meant in kindness. The three women responded in chorus "Thank you sir." and a silence settled over them. only the sounds of Celosia's writing to be heard. The drive back was punctuated by the occasional barked thought as Lysandre considered more that needed to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some pictures:
> 
>    
> [ Mable Teases Lysandre as she leaves](http://25.media.tumblr.com/ee89f6334df472978e749efe259b1734/tumblr_mwzam9CaZD1t0f5y4o2_500.png)  
> (by me)
> 
> [ The moment Bryony gets hired](http://25.media.tumblr.com/5aa620d45bc48c571d2a716db4fe7304/tumblr_mwzam9CaZD1t0f5y4o3_500.png)  
> (by me)
> 
> [ Adorable garden comic. ](http://25.media.tumblr.com/3046f926f52237b6e574c9e273703c73/tumblr_mz9dik3EG21qm8n8to1_1280.png)  
> ( [Fanart from animecreator on Tumblr!](http://animecreator.tumblr.com/))


	4. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What? There are pokemon in this Pokemon fanfiction? Crazyness. 
> 
> Augustine needs to clear his head, and as such Malva is introduced. Sycamore is a little surprised to learn that not all of his 'flings' are guilt free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that Lysandre has a Murkrow and not a Zorua in the game. Remember, this is pre-X and Y.

  
“Foolishness does not suit you" Lysandre muttered to himself, bent over the kitchen island, knuckle pressed into his forehead. Steam from his coffee rose up and into his face. “Just move on," He muttered again. Lysandre was only human, as such mistakes were not foreign to him, but his father had taught him to never look back, never obsess over the past. If mistakes are made, stride onward as though it were intentional. Self doubt is weakness. Lysandre recited this to himself, and yet he was unable to kill these intrusive thoughts.

His history so callously sold. Almost unleashing Tarasque, his Gyrados, on that fool. Sycamore flinching away from him.

He pushed his knuckle against his head harder, willing himself to focus on the day ahead. The past was the past, done, over, and unchangeable. The only thing he could change was the future.

The slam of his hands against the countertop rattled the coffee cup, spilling droplets into its saucer. Lysandre was already in the coat room by the time the liquid settled. The front door closed with a BANG, leaving his coffee forgotten.

 

___ 

 

When the elevator doors opened Lysandre was struck first by the smell of chlorine followed by burnt hair. His office’s training gym was always empty on Sundays, save for one lone woman. Today was no exception. At the center of the gym was a single raised regulation pokemon battle arena, and Malva stood to the left, shouting commands to a female pyroar. The pyroar unleashed a fearsome yowl before filling the entire right side of the arena with fire. Lysandre’s own litleo, Kisai, was the son of that impressive pyroar. “Kisai, Reynard, Charlemagne, come" Lysandre called out, throwing each luxury ball in turn. Kisai lept out in a flash of red and, with the barest acknowledgement of Lysandre’s presence, ran to the edge of the arena. Reynard, Lysandre’s Zorua, Appeared a moment after, looking at Kisai with disdain and remaining at Lysandre’s side. Charlemagne, his Meinfoo, looked up and Lysandre gave him a brief stroke between the ears.

At the main arena the female pyroar’s eyes flicked to the little lion, but made no further moves until Malva issued the command, “relax." At that point she was nothing but a ball of licks and purrs with her tiny son. Kisai had been bred specifically for his power and speed, and presented as a gift from Malva after Lysandre had approved the funding for her campaign to enter the Elite Four.

Malva wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel, draping it around her thin shoulders. Her pink hair was tied back in a mess. She smiled at Lysandre. “We’ve missed you around here." Then with a flick of her eyes up to his hair she said, “If you’re here to train, get that stupid shit out of your hair." She grinned.

“Battle me first." Lysandre said, approaching the arena with purpose.

Malva looked him up and down, appraisingly. “Alright." She said after a moment. “The stakes are 15 grand." 

“Malva," Lysandre said warningly.

“But! I only have Chi with me today. You can use your whole team." Malva gestured to her Pyroar.

Lysandre thought for a moment, “Alright." he said.

“Chi, back to the arena," Malva commanded, and just like that the Pyroar was back on point, ready for battle. Kisai gave a sad little ‘Mrow Efrom the sidelines.

“Charlemagne, go" Lysandre proclaimed. The Meinfoo bounded into the arena with excitement, striking a defensive battle stance. “Swords Dance ELysandre exclaimed, not wanting to waste time.

“Hyper voice" Malva yelled. A disorienting roar filled the arena, but Charlemagne's graceful footwork allowed him to retain his balance while switching to an aggressive stance. Both trainers expertly called their moves and countermoves, Their Pokemon reacting split seconds after each command. Meinfoo leapt high into the air to dodge a violent flurry of fire and kicked the Pyroar with all its might. The blow struck well and Chi stumbled for a moment before countering with a devastating Flamethrower attack. Charlemagne fell to a kneel and Lysandre had to call it back to its ball to save it from battling on and risking death.

Kisai was the next in the arena, leaping forward eagerly to show its power to its mother. But it was over 20 levels inferior and when Chi let out her signature Noble Roar the little lion could barely bring itself to scratch with any aggression. Chi pinned him easily, winning with an affectionate lick.

It was Reynard's turn, having adopted Kisai’s image with a mocking laugh at his little rival. Reynard rarely _needed_ to be told commands at all, tapping into its bond with Lysandre, eager to show himself as the best on the team. Chi lunged forward in a Wild Charge but Reynard dodged between the lion’s legs, tripping it and using Chi’s own attack power to send her careening towards the floor. Chi had taken damage, but not nearly enough for Reynard to outmatch her. The tiny fox’s form flashed back into view as he was struck by an echoing roar, leaving him ringing in the ears and dizzied. Lysandre called him back, but was not ready to lose his money quite yet.

Summoning all his anger from the night before, Lysandre called forth Tarasque from his ball. The massive water serpent skirted above the arena, flying with ominous presence. Chi belted forth with flamethrower after flamethrower but even the ones that struck true did little damage. Lysandre issued the command and Tarasque belted towards the ground, unleashing a massive earthquake. The shock absorbers of the arena whined with strain to keep the rest of the building from feeling the shaking, but in the arena the attack was incredible. Dust cleared to reveal Chi, breathing hard but standing. Lysandre had miscalculated the power of the attack slightly and left Tarasque open. “WILD CHARGE" Malva’s shout rang and a flurry of electricity struck Tarasque dead in the chest, leaving him unable to move further. The recoil hit Chi hard, and she could barely stay standing, but the battle had already been won.

 

___ 

  
Tarasque’s scales broke the surface of the massive pool, shimmering under the fluorescent lighting. A few feet behind Charlemagne swam frantically trying to beat his larger opponent. Inevitably the sleek Gyrados reached the other side of the pool before the Meinfoo, but it was shockingly close, considering their differences in size. Along the edge of the pool Kisai and Reynard were chasing one another in mock battle. Chi watched on with an occasional sharp bark at the pair if they got too rambunctious.

Lysandre leaned against the wall of the pool, damp hair framing his face. His beard was adopting a regrettable curl from the moisture and he tugged at it occasionally, frowning, in an attempt to straighten it. Malva leaned to his right, smiling smugly, loose pink hair swirling in the water.

“Surprised to see you today." Malva admitted. “Something on your mind? ELysandre sank a little lower in the water with a sigh. It was true, the only times he’d been able to make it to the gym lately was when he needed to clear his head. Balancing his company with his side enterprises took up so much time.

“Just some setbacks." He said. “I’ve misread a situation recently." Lysandre admitted. Guilt pressed in on his mind, but it was lighter than it had been earlier.

“Rival corporation got the upper hand on you?" Malva guessed.

“No, its not a professional issue." Lysandre said. He had run a professional risk, to no avail, but the issue was not professional per se.

“Wear the wrong dress at a fancy party?" Malva teased.

“No," Lysandre looked at her crossly.

“So a romantic problem then." Malva concluded. “You got a new little ‘assistant Erecently, right? Some cute little scene chick?"

“Malva." Lysandre said with a glare.

“Is it Mable? She is so into you." 

Lysandre furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at her.

“Is is Celosia? Because, seriously, do not go after that, she is a total business-dyke." 

" Malva!" Lysandre exclaimed, a little angry.

“What? I can say that." Malva raised her hands up mockingly, grinning.

“I’m not dating my co-workers." Lysandre said pointedly.

“Psssh" Malva splashed water into his face, scoffing. “Well if you’re not after Cela, I’ll take a crack at ‘er."

“You’re disgusting," Lysandre said and Malva laughed.

“Well in any case," She continued, “you have that whole clique around twenty-four seven keeping you on track, if you misread anything then they all did too. Which I _doubt_." 

Lysandre thought about that for a moment. Cela did always seem to be three steps ahead of him, and Mable knew outright. Neither of them had said anything. Was there something else he hadn’t considered?

“May I ask you a personal question?" Lysandre said.

“Go for it." Malva said.

“When… When you date women, are you open about it?" Lysandre asked.

“What do you mean, like with my family?" Malva asked.

“Yes." Lysandre shrugged, trying to be flippant.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" She said. 

Lysandre frowned, that was not a helpful answer. "What about in public?" He asked.

“Ah well… It depends on what part of town we’re in really." She said offhand. “Like, I wouldn’t hold her hand going down an alley or anything, but the boulevards and even the avenues are fine." 

“But it’s something you have to think about." 

“Yes. Mostly it’s not an issue, but it’s not great to get caught off guard." Malva shrugged slightly. “Lumiose is pretty liberal though." 

“And outside of Lumiose?" 

“Eh, it depends I guess, never tried so I’d have to feel it out for myself." 

Lysandre nodded, thinking. He had tried to keep it subtle for his own benefit as well as Augustine’s, waiting until no one was around. However, Those gardens were still visible from the balcony. He was comfortable with that risk to himself, he was nearing the point where his family’s wishes were no longer a point of concern, and it had been such a long time coming. On the other hand Augustine Sycamore may have any number of personal burdens to worry about. That must be why. Arm-holding was one thing, that could be explained away. But a kiss, and out in the country even where Augustine didn’t even know the guests… Lysandre resolved to be a little more careful in the future.

With a jolt Lysandre became aware of Malva close to him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Her mouth was curling into a grin that a gengar would be jealous of. “So who is he?" She asked.

  
___

  
A series of loud knocks on his office door was the last thing the professor wanted right then. He had 10 tests left to grade before lunch, and his stomach was already growling. With shoulders slumped in defeat he called “Come in." Praying that it wasn’t someone looking for office hours. Or, if it was, someone with food.

The door creaked open and in strode a tall woman, blue hair curled loosely down her back. “Mable, what a surprise." The professor said warily. The woman smiled, she had barely aged a day since they had known each other in school. Augustine was a little relieved to see that she was wearing a conservative tan jacket and a red skirt that reached past her knees.

“Hello Augustine, I apologize for the intrusion. I am here with a delivery." From her jacket pocket she pulled a rectangular silver box.

"Oh, no. That is not necessary." Professor Sycamore said, blushing faintly and standing. "I should have said as much on the ride back." 

Mable smiled, looking up at him. "Lysandre regrets losing his temper, among other things. Please," She offered him the small steel box.

"Ah..." The professor looked around his office, seeking an excuse, but came up empty handed. He took the box hesitantly. "Send him my thanks."

Mable grinned even more broadly. "I will... If you would, I'd love to see them for myself." She gestured towards the box, a little bounce in her step.

"Oh, well. Certainly." The professor smiled awkwardly, wondering what was inside. The lid of the box was clasped tightly, and it seemed the interior had been slightly pressurized when it released with a tiny 'pop.' Augustine flipped back the lid and the top layer of silk lining. "ooh." He said, inspite of himself.

Inside three glistening pokeballs rested, perfectly held in the red casing. The professor felt a wave of excitement and he made a bee-line the PC, placing each ball delicately in the scanner.

_Bulbasaur, Female, Level 5_  
 _Squirtle, Female, Level 5_  
 _Charmander, Female, Level 5_

  
A long soft whistle escaped him before he came to his senses. "no.... no no no. no. no." He said, shaking his head at Mable. "No. I was expecting like... a muffin basket. These... These are Kanto starter pokemon, and all female to boot." He hastily removed the balls from the scanner and put them back in the box. "I can not possibly accept these. They are so incredibly rare." He shoved the box back at Mable.

"They are yours now" she smiled, dodging around the box as he thrust it at her "Courtesy of Lysandre." She placed her hand on the back of the box and pushed it gently towards Augustine.

“Mable, please understand…" Augustine began.

“It is _not_ ," Mable interrupted, hand still on the box, “a gift without strings." Augustine narrowed his eyes slightly. Mable continued with a smile, “But the strings are courtesy of myself and Cela." 

“Go on." Augustine said, uneasiness apparent in his voice.

Mable gave him a small smile, “The only caveat is that you really consider what I am about to say." She paused for Augustine to nod. “I do not think you’re aware of how easy it is for others to fall for you. Sometimes, falling for the wrong person can be very devastating. Sometimes, people have a history of this, and never quite learn their lesson. You’re very handsome, and not everyone in the world hedges their bets, romantically." She leaned forward with a small upward nod.

Augustine was a little taken aback. “Well, I never try…" 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Professor." She raised her hands in a defensive apology, “I’m only here to inform. It can be painful when another party suddenly loses interest. You can ruin people with a misplaced gesture." 

There was a short pause. “Are we still talking about Lysandre?" Augustine asked.

Though Mable’s smile said ‘no' she responded “Of course." 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind." He said awkwardly in return, wanting to smooth over the tension. He had never meant to hurt anyone, and wanted dearly to make it up to her. “Would… you like to join me for lunch?" He offered, grasping for a solution.

Mable raised her finger in Augustine’s face. "That is what I am talking about." She said" Thatwill get you in trouble." 

Augustine opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He had not _intended_.

“I appreciate your time, sir." Mable said politely to fill the air between them. “And I do have to be going." She turned and opened the door, stepping out lightly.

“I’m sorry." Augustine offered meekly and the door shut with a ‘click' His shoulders slumped and he fell back into his office chair, sending it rolling slowly across the tile floor. _Do I hedge my bets?_ He thought. Surely he couldn’t expect to know what every person in the world was thinking. _I just put myself out there, if other people make that into something, so be it._ Augustine thought a little defensively. Even as he did so his eyes flicked to his desk calendar where, among his classes and deadlines he had placed two notes for next week. “Cafe? -ask Lys?" with a little heart, and a few days later, “Icecream - Dimitri' With a second heart.

Toying with the silver box still in hand, the professor slumped further down in his chair and furrowed his brow. A gift with strings, eh? Three rare pokemon from a foreign region. It was strange, he had just been looking over information on Kanto pokemon last week. But why was that again? The professor sat up to rifle through his desk drawer. Each month his lab notebooks were filed away here… _ah-ha_!

Augustine looked over his own loopy script in a notebook from their preliminary research at the Glittering Cave. _Energy readings from the stones indicate a connection with specific pokemon, similar to evolutionary stones. Unlike evolutionary stones these seem to be unique to the breed, rather than the type. Initial testings show that they do not cause evolution by contact, trade, or any other known methods. Of all the recovered stones none have been related to Kalos pokemon, resulting in a limited pool of testable specimens, however the Kanto region seems to be well represented. At time of writing all three Kanto starter pokemon have been represented in at least one stone as well as…_

The professor stood, eyes still fixed on his notes, and headed towards the lab.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pictures!
> 
>  
> 
> [ Malva figured it out. (Also it's a dick joke when seen out of context, yay!)](http://24.media.tumblr.com/d2cef94e27b2d223f9210bffd790abe8/tumblr_mwzmnjY3gO1t0f5y4o1_500.png)
> 
>    
> [ Malva wins all bets.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/8dc0c5019e1f22a9f6f28f8a39574173/tumblr_mzbgjk2CTz1qm8n8to1_1280.png)  
> ( [Fanart from animecreator on Tumblr!](http://animecreator.tumblr.com/))


	5. Foiled Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustine decides to surprise Lysandre with a romantic lunch date, but his plans are foiled by SCIENCE!

"Ok, Augustine." Professor Sycamore said to himself quietly. "This is going to go more smoothly." It was late morning on a beautiful sunny Friday, the full heat of summer was just making itself known to the city, promising to be brutal by the afternoon. Augustine hesitated a moment in front of the tall building that was Lysandre's office. He was a little shaken up from the regrettable task of that morning. Professor Sycamore had never, _really_ , broken up with anyone before. And he never, _really_ , figured it was necessary. Even as he began to explain himself to Dimitri he had felt foolish, they weren't, _really_ , dating, why make a big deal out of it by breaking up? Unfortunately for Augustine, Dimitri had clearly thought otherwise. He had run the full range of emotions, right there in the middle of the cafe, with Augustine hastily trying to get him to quiet down. The whole ordeal was incredibly confusing, and horribly loud. Augustine doubted he could go back to that cafe ever again. Somewhere deep inside Augustine thought if that's what all breakups were like he was glad that he avoided them for nearly 31 years. But that was a terrible thing to think.

In any case, it was done now. Augustine had weathered that storm and come out on the other side with his integrity intact... probably. He shifted a large brown paper package to his other arm, and walked into the building.

The ground floor doubled as a Holocaster store, with their latest models lining the walls for anyone to peruse. Sales people dotted the room, most of whom were talking enthusiastically with customers. Within seconds Augustine was greeted by a young blonde man, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"I'm actually here to speak with," Augustine paused just before the name-drop. "Ah, someone who works in the offices." He pointed upwards.

The man frowned at the lost sales opportunity, but pointed Augustine towards an elevator. It was empty, with faint classical music playing. The salesman was gone before Augustine could thank him. Facing the impressive column of buttons, Augustine hovered his finger for a moment, and then pressed the topmost floor at a guess.

Every two floors or so the elevator would stop, and let on or drop off more employees. Augustine curiously peered at each floor. The first few were generic cubicle farms, one was quiet and modern with glass walled offices. One floor seemed to be under construction. The people, however, were more interesting. It started with a group of women in business suits. Each of them had some kind of a red ribbon clipped to their hair.  Augustine dismissed it at first, but every so often another person would enter the elevator with the same ribbon, sometimes with a poufy bauble attached. It wasn't just the ladies either. Men in otherwise professional business suits had a shock of red clipped to their hair, or jacket if their hair was too short. What was the most strange, to Augustine, was that it wasn't everyone. If everyone had it it may have been some kind of a company policy, or fund-raiser perhaps? But it was just a few. Other than the red decoration they didn't seem any more of less important, and they seemed just as friendly with their non-decorated coworkers.

What _everyone_ had in common was their workload. They rushed into the elevator and rushed out, sometimes with a nod at Augustine, but no one seemed free for conversation. Augustine's lab was usually relaxed. Sometimes there was a rush during finals week, but stopping and talking with his lab techs about nothing in particular was practically a required part of the day. Even the relaxed people here were talking business.

As the elevator rose ever higher the employees stopped getting on and merely filtered out, leaving Augustine alone for the last few floors. With a final 'ding' the elevator landed at its topmost destination, and Augustine exited.

Before him was an elegant room with red carpeting and cherry wood furniture. It was quiet, the only other person Augustine could see was the secretary. She was young with dark black hair and her own red ribbon hanging down from the right side.

"Hello sir, how may I help you?" She chirped with a smile.

"I am looking for Mr. Lysandre's office." Augustine said, looking around the large room.

"Just Lysandre" The girl corrected. "Do you have an appointment?" She asked, looking over the schedule.

"Not as such, I was hoping to catch him for lunch." Augustine said, realizing with a pang of regret that obviously he should have called ahead.

"Name?" She asked.

"Professor Augustine Sycamore."

She pushed a button on her phone and spoke "Sir, a Professor Augustine Sycamore is here to see you." There was no immediate reply, but the girl did not seem fazed by it.

Augustine fiddled with the package again, "What, ah... What is that?" He asked tugging on his own dark black hair and looking at the girl's ribbon. "I've seen a lot of people with those."

"Oh!" the girl brightened, if possible, even further. "It's just something silly that the girls on the 5th floor came up with." She fiddled with her ribbon. "It kind of caught on. Next week is the company retreat, and everyone who signed up is really excited, so it's a little 'Team Spirit' Kind of thing. It's silly." She laughed, but straightened the clip lovingly.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Where are you going?"

"Laverre City!" The girl exclaimed, "and the best part is that there is an all expenses paid pokemon catching event planned, with guides and everything. I've never had a pokemon before." She was positively beaming. "I never thought I'd be able to, I mean I grew up in Lumiose but never had the opportunity to join the Starter Program when I was a kid."

"I had no idea Lysandre's company offered perks like that." Augustine said, impressed. "I actually run the Kalos Starter Program." He began, leaning forward on the desk, "The data collection opportunities it affords are immense, migration patterns are of particular interest with any group of students. Why just this year my students found that the scatterbug population has expanded out onto Route Two, the implications of which are..." Augustine trailed off when he saw the girl's eyes glaze over. He sighed to himself. "Well I won't bore you with the details. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time."

The girl nodded, "Oh I'm sure--" She was cut off by a voice over her intercom.

"Thank you Naomi. My meeting is almost done, please show him to my office."

With a smile Naomi said "right through there." And pointed Augustine through two great cherry wood doors.

To Augustine's surprise Lysandre's office was actually smaller than the entryway that Naomi oversaw. Two immense bookshelves framed the picture window at the back, which overlooked Prism Tower. The walls were decorated with art, landscapes from all over Kalos. Lysandre sat at a large desk, before him were two holocaster images. As Augustine approached the desk Lysandre finished writing something in thick marker, holding up the paper it read:

 

**APOLOGIES, PLEASE HAVE A SEAT WHILE I WRAP UP.**

 

Augustine sat in red leather chair directly in front of the desk. One of the holocaster images spoke up "It's not that we can't get any of your requirements into the prototype, it's that we can't get _ALL_ of them in."

The second image said, "We _CAN_ get all of them in, but not at that price point."

"The price is non-negotiable." Lysandre said to both. With a little jolt of surprise Professor Sycamore realized that he was watching a real time holocaster meeting. Publicly available holocasters only supported videomail, not live interaction. He leaned forward, fascinated.

"Then we should go with full color and live broadcast" The first man said.

"If the damn things overheat at every opportunity there's no point in having either!" Said the other man.

Lysandre raised a hand to silence them both. "The quality of the product is more important than full color." He said. "But I'm not ready to give up on that feature. How bad is the overheating issue?"

The second man flung his hand forward in a frustrated gesture. "You have two right there in front of you, touch it." Lysandre reached out towards one of the casters, resting on his desk. He pulled away sharply, waving his burnt hand.

"Alright, well all in all they are very impressive. Xerosic is right, the overheating is unacceptable." Lysandre turned to the first man. "Can we do some kind of partial color?"

"Eh... I can see about that," The man replied.

"Good, let's proceed with that for now." Lysandre paused. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen, If you'll excuse me I have another appointment waiting."

The holocasters flickered off and Lysandre stood. "I am sorry to keep you waiting, Augustine. What brings you here today?"

"Well I came by to thank you for your gift, you really did not have to go through the trouble." Augustine said with a little laugh.

"Oh it was no trouble. I do hope that you did not already have those three?" Lysandre said curiously.

"You were worried that I already had some of the _rarest pokemon in Kalos?_ " Augustine asked. He was about to laugh but stopped when he saw that Lysandre had a look of genuine wonder. "Ah... No, I did not have them." Augustine finished awkwardly.

"Excellent," Lysandre said, smiling.

"I actually brought you something in return." Augustine said, holding out the brown wrapped package.

"Oh, not necessary, professor," Lysandre said, but took the package anyway. He turned it over and peeled the tape off the corners, sliding the box smoothly out of the undamaged paper. On the lid the loopy and eccentric script read 'Annoise.' Lysandre pulled off the black box top to reveal a jacket.

"I hope I guessed the size correctly." Augustine said, a little nervous.

Lysandre pulled it out carefully, and checked the tag with a nod. The jacket was black suede with red edging around the lapels and down the zipper. "It's gorgeous." Lysandre said, admiring the jacket. He pulled off his own suit jacket, hanging it carefully on the back of his office chair, and pulled on the new jacket. It suited him very well, tight across the chest with a sharp point to accentuate his broad shoulders. Lysandre lifted his hand to inspect the cuffs and Augustine couldn't quite suppress a grin. "Join me for lunch," Lysandre said suddenly, shifting his gaze from the cuffs to Augustine with a snap.

"Oh, sure, I would love to." Augustine said, as though it had not been his plan all along.

"I will ask Naomi to order something, what do you prefer?" Lysandre said, finger poised over the intercom.

"Well I was hoping, actually, that we could go out to a cafe in town?" Augustine asked.

Lysandre furrowed his brow, as if you say 'Why?' But instead he said "Alright, if that is what you want." He walked around the outside of his desk to join Augustine. "While we walk, I'm curious, do you think that those pokemon will be of any assistance in your research?"

"They will be invaluable to my research!" The professor began to gush. "Why I have already got my assistants looking into their relationship with some artifacts we have in the lab. Carnelian in particular..."

"Carnelian?" Lysandre interjected as they walked past Naomi's desk towards the elevator.

"The name I gave to the charmander, along with Topaz for squirtle and Prasiolite for bulbasaur." The professor explained.

Lysandre hit the elevator button for the ground floor and punched in a combination into a number pad at the bottom. "Interesting names, Topaz is a type of stone, is it not?"

"They are all gemstones, actually. The artifacts we recently found in the glittering caverns each have a unique gemstone property that seems to harness energy related to each of these pokemon, so it seemed appropriate." Augustine explained.

"I see, tell me more about these stones." Lysandre asked with genuine interest in his voice.

Excited for an audience, Augustine continued explaining the unique properties of the stones, and their findings thus far. They walked together in the rapidly increasing summer heat until reaching the cafe of Augustine's choice. With a little shock, Augustine realized he had been prattling on about pokemon all the way into the cafe. As they took their seats in a back corner Augustine tried to turn the conversation elsewhere, "Aren't you warm in that jacket?"

"No the heat is not a bother." Lysandre said dismissively before continuing, “I have a question about how you are able to find these energy readings and determine that they are related to a specific pokemon." Lysandre leaned forward, knitting his fingers together to listen.

 _Well, If he's really interested..._ Augustine thought. "It's actually a great little invention that my assistant Dexio came up with..." and went on through the rest of the meal talking about machine calibrations and energy signatures. To his great delight Lysandre had some wonderfully poignant questions about their laboratory equipment. Augustine had gone into full lecture mode, only able to stop himself to get through his meal when Lysandre interrupted with a question, or an observation.

When the waitress came with the bill Lysandre had his card out before she could even set it down and give Augustine the opportunity to offer. "Oh, I can..." Augustine started to say. Was their meal already over?

Lysandre shook his head to quash that thought and asked, "Tell me, what other pokemon have you found that share this energy?"

Augustine forgot about the bill entirely, "It's actually an impressive list!" He began to name all of the pokemon energies that they had recorded thus far. As they left the cafe The conversation transitioned into the reason why each pokemon has its own energy signature, which lead to discussions on the relationship between biological pokemon, ethereal pokemon and tsukumogami pokemon. The pair were already in the elevator of Lysandre's building once again before Augustine came to his senses and realized lunch had passed and he'd completely forgotten to be charming. 

Lysandre punched in the same code into the number pad as before, and returned to Augustine's side as they began to ascend. Augustine tried to scramble for a different topic, something that wouldn't send him off into professor mode, but he couldn't think of anything. He mentally kicked himself for wasting the entire meal. Now, all of a sudden, they were back at the office? "What, uh" He stumbled, trying to save face. "What is that code you keep using?"

"The express PIN, to keep the elevator from stopping at each floor." Lysandre offered, leaning over slightly. Sensing an opportunity to make up for lost time Augustine touched his shoulder to Lysandre’s, still warm from the summer sun. _Mention something about how we’ll be alone, that will work_ , Augustine thought. "One more quick question though," Lysandre continued even as Augustine slipped their hands together, intertwining his fingers with the other man’s. A nervous energy raced around in Augustine's stomach, "If you know the chemical composition of these stones as well as the exact energy signature, can you make them artificially?"

 _Oh no_ , that was a really interesting topic. That was an _impossibly interesting_ point that not even his graduate students had come up with for _days_ after their discovery. It was not even fair how much Augustine wanted to talk about that _exact thing_. "We have actually been able to synthesize an alternate to the Charizardite using red jasper instead of the carnelian compound!" Augustine continued in an exciting rush of information. "But we can't synthesize any of the naturally occurring stones with any of the same energies." And on he went, unable to control himself even as their time in the elevator slipped away.

"What do you think that means?" Lysandre asked.

"I have no idea!" Augustine exclaimed with an excited grin.

 

___

 

The elevator doors opened to reveal an empty desk. Naomi was still at lunch, and Lysandre was struck with a wave of relief. It seemed like his life was consumed with work lately, and the professor was such a welcome escape, he wasn’t ready to let that go yet. Lysandre didn’t have to force himself to say anything, or come up with meaningless banter. Augustine would talk, and Lysandre could listen and think. It was relaxing.

Rather, it had _been_ relaxing. When Augustine had slipped their hands together as though it was the most natural thing in the world Lysandre found himself tense again. It was a good kind of tension he supposed. Though a faint guilt was lingering on the edge of his mind, primarily because the professor was still talking and Lysandre just could not pay attention anymore, but also he knew that this was a dangerous path he was walking down, and he wasn’t sure if the time was right.

 _Maybe this would become a regular occasion,_ Lysandre thought as they entered his office. Would that be a good idea? Could he figure out a way to suggest that without sounding like a fool? He wasn’t entirely sure what the expectations there were. _I’ll figure it out_ , he thought. “Thank you for coming by, professor" Lysandre began, “the company was a welcome change." 

Leaning in, Augustine smiled that open trusting smile, “I suppose you have work to get back to." He said with a hint of sadness. Lysandre glanced back at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and as he did so Augustine had come closer, bringing his lips to rest on Lysandre’s cheek. Instinctively Lysandre grasped the professor’s hand more tightly. Augustine was against him, other hand at his waist, his chest applying the faintest pressure against Lysandre’s. _Dear god_ , Lysandre thought, _how is Augustine so casual about this?_ The worst part about it all was that Lysandre could see the clock on his desk, it was already well past one, he didn’t have time. Lysandre lifted his hand up and buried it deep in Augustine’s wild hair. _Please let everyone in the fucking world be running late today_. Lysandre pressed his mouth against Augustine’s, pulling him in closer, desperately. Augustine leaned into the kiss and brought his hand up, running it gently through Lysandre’s thick beard.

Inevitably intercom clicked to life, Lysandre cursed Naomi’s horrible cheery voice as she said, “Celosia is here to see you with the Historical Misconduct Report."  _Fuck, when did she get back?_ Lysandre broke the kiss, glaring with hatred, and tried to get control of himself with a slow exhale. He only needed to lean back a little against his desk, pulling Augustine along with him, to reach the intercom.

“Celosia," He began with mock happiness and then injected every ounce of ice into his voice that his body could muster, "Can this wait?" He knew the answer was no already, but with Augustine leaning against him, tugging ever so gently at his beard and smiling like that…

Celosia’s voice came back through the intercom this time. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t see anything on the schedule for this afternoon. A quicker action on our part will give the lawyers enough time to…" 

Lysandre cut her off by pushing his intercom button again. “Fine," he barked. On cue, Augustine pulled back, smiled and said, “Next time we can have lunch at my office." Without waiting for a reply Augustine opened the office door and then was gone, leaving behind a very frustrated businessman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had writers block during this chapter so I wrote an alternate alternate ending:
> 
> ___  
> "I actually brought you something in return." Augustine said, holding out the brown wrapped package. 
> 
> "Oh, not necessary, professor," Lysandre said, but took the package anyway. He turned it over and peeled the tape off the corners, sliding the box smoothly out of the undamaged paper. 
> 
> IT WAS A FUCKING BOMB, THEY BOTH DIED, LAWL. SYCAMORES POWERS OF SCIENCE HAD SHOWN HIM THE FUTURE WHERE LYSANDRE WENT ALL CRAZY AND SHIT AND SYCAMORE SAVED THE WORLD EARLY BUT HE HAD TO SACRIFICE HIMSELF TOO BECAUSE REASONS. VRY SAD ;_;  
> ___


	6. Losing Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysandre brings parfait to the man who has been invading his thoughts, not knowing the dark path it will lead him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for mature audiences. There is strong imagery and strong language.

By 11 o’clock on Thursday morning Lysandre could no longer focus. His office was all but empty due to the company retreat. It was supposed to be his vacation week as well, yet he found himself here every day, pouring over plans and contracts. Malva was leading the retreat, so he had no one to battle at the gym. He had spend some hours each night swimming laps with Tarasque, grooming Kisai and Reynard, or training with Charlemagne. He worked himself to exhaustion, but still his mind raced. If he stayed at home, all he thought about was Augustine. Welcome thoughts to be sure, but unproductive ones. What-if stories about their Friday luncheon. How it should have gone. What he would have done. These thoughts split his mind in two, one side wanting to meet again, and the other dreading that meeting. At this point, nothing could live up to the fantasy.

A faint knock came at the door. _Strange_ , “Come in" he called, refocusing on his paperwork. Bryony strode into Lysandre's office with purpose. Without looking up he said, "Bre, lovely to see you today. I wanted to talk to you about your proposal for the cafe... The space behind would do well for a laboratory and..." Bryony dropped a delivery on his desk with a thud. Lysandre looked up to see a plastic bag with the Cafe Le Wow logo.

"He likes parfait, so make sure this gets refrigerated and don't take too long getting there." She could faintly hear Mable giggling in the hallway. Lysandre looked up from his paperwork with a glare that could curdle milk. She met his eyes with her own stern glare. He had taught her that, it was good to see it applied, even if it was against him.

For a few tense seconds they stared in silence. Finally, Lysandre snapped, " _Mable I can hear you!_ " The hallway was immediately silent. He cleared his throat, "That will be all Bryony." He waved towards the door. She left with a smug smile, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Lysandre put down his paperwork and looked at the unrequested takeout, tapping his finger lightly against his forehead. Bryony had a way of getting to the heart of matters, she wasn’t burdened with an overabundance of self doubt, but she also was not aware of the consequences. Lysandre ran his thumb along the edge of the suede jacket that Augustine had given him. In one swift motion he was up, bag in hand, and out the door.

 

___

 

He reached the laboratory by taxi, hoping the air conditioning would keep the parfait a little longer, but it seemed to be for naught. Already the paper cups had become malleable to the touch.

The lab itself was set in a smaller building, quaint and offset from the street. He had been here before in his own college days, but he had not known Augustine then. Though thinking on it now, they must have gone at the same time. He had met Mable in college, If Mable had Augustine as a TA then perhaps they had even crossed paths. Lysandre had focused in business administration, but he was always fascinated by the sciences, he had meant to double major. Unfortunately life had its ways of ruining well laid plans.

He sighed deeply, entering the ground floor of the building. It was more modern than he remembered, but still busy with students. Looking around, he felt strangely old. It hadn’t been too many years since he had attended, but there were so many… children. Did college students really look so young? He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He was still a young man, surely it was just his formal wear clashing with their casual street clothes. In the back he found the elevator and, thankfully, a sign with each professor’s name and office number.

The third floor was less active from the first. Books and papers were scattered everywhere. A few laboratory assistants sat in front of computers or stood on chairs to reach higher bookshelves. It was an open area, with broad picture windows overlooking the city. Lysandre approached one of the open office doors, and was thankful to hear Augustines voice from inside. he knocked twice on the doorframe, waiting just outside the entryway.

“Come in?" Came Augustine’s curious voice.

Lysandre cleared his throat as he entered. “I hope I am not interrupting."

“Lysandre! I should have expected as much when I heard a knock." Augustine laughed. His office was a mess of books and papers with a small desk near the back. There were diagrams and sketches not only lining the walls, but also unhung in the corner or scattered on the floors. At the center Augustine stood with two younger students. “Lysandre please meet my students, Cain and Aliana. Aliana, you should know that the egg you have won is all thanks to Lysandre here."

Aliana was a plain girl with a mess of wavy honey colored hair. She wore a blue waist high skirt and white tanktop. In her arms she held a pokemon egg. Her eyes grew wide at Augustine’s mention of Lysandre and then she bowed deeply “Thank you."

Lysandre looked to Augustine for an answer to his unasked question. Augustine chuckled and said “Carnelian, the charmander you gave me, had her first egg. Aliana and Cain just finished battling for it. Its too bad you missed it, truly a spectacular show."

“Congratulations my dear" Lysandre said, and Aliana blushed. At her side Cain, a shorter boy with dark black hair, rolled his eyes.

Though Augustine had not seen it, he seemed to sense Cain’s disappointment “Worry not, If an egg should appear again it will be yours." Augustine’s eyes lit up with a flash, “That reminds me Aliana. Now, it is a bit of a fallacy to make this assumption, being that we truly don’t know what causes pokemon eggs to form, but that should be a charmander egg you have got." Augustine turned to his desk and produced a large marble like object, shining with a deep red brilliance. “We have just started our field testing, so please, hang on to this in your travels as well." Augustine handed the stone to the lucky girl, “Now, we’re not sure how it works… exactly." Augustine admitted with a shrug, “But that is what field tests are for."

Aliana was silent, still blushing, but she nodded furiously.

“Sir, can we look around the labs?" Cain asked, clearly annoyed over his loss.

“Yes, lovely," He dismissed his students. “Don’t forget to keep me informed on your pokedex progress!" He called out to them as they left his office, towards the elevator.

“Field testing the stones?" Lysandre said curiously. “I didn’t know you were ready for that."

“Well lab tests can only do so much." Augustine shrugged again, “we still don’t know much, a little real-world testing might prove useful."

“How, exactly, might one enter into the field tests if they were so inclined," Lysandre asked.

“You have to be a student." Augustine smiled, and flicked his eyes to Lysandre’s side “What’s in your drippy bag?"

Lysandre looked down to see a small pool of cream forming on his leather shoe. “Goddamnit." he said. The paper cups must have given way.  He sighed angrily and admitted defeat, “I brought you parfait."

“I love parfait!" Augustine said cheerily, grabbing the bag.

 

___

 

Outside the window a street light flickered to life with a faint hum. The pale yellow light flooded into Sycamore’s office. The light brightened the room slightly, just enough for Lysandre to realize that he had been straining to read in the darkness. He looked to Augustine, unfettered by the lighting, as though it was familiar. Lysandre leaned over from his place on the sofa and flicked on the table lamp.

Augustine inhaled sharply, looking around for the first time in at least two hours. Their conversation had died away in the early afternoon, but their reading had continued. The office had drained slowly of the other researchers, each coming in briefly to say goodnight to Professor Sycamore, and each being met with nothing more than a slight upward nod. None seemed offended. Lysandre pretended not to notice them. Now the office was dark and quiet.

Augustine rubbed the corner of his eye and broke the calm silence “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten."

“Nor had I" Lysandre offered. He stood, stretching his arms high. “Will you accompany me for dinner? I have some questions about this paper we should discuss." Lysandre walked over to the professor’s desk, leaning against the side. “It seems to imply, to me, that there are more than just the known stable forms of evolution."

Augustine furrowed his brow and stood. “hm, which paper is that?" He leaned on the desk next to Lysande and held the other side of the booklet for himself. His fingertips brushed Lysandre’s for a moment and though Lysandre tensed, the professor offered no reaction. Sycamore began to pour over the paper, with only the occasional “hmm."

Lysandre was still a young man in his mid twenties, taller and more muscular than Augustine. Thus far in their… undefinable relationship Lysandre had not had the opportunity to truly look at Augustine so closely. It was heartbreaking to see it now, the beginning lines of wrinkles that would one day rob him of his beauty were taunting. Around the corners of his eyes it was the most pronounced, and the faint bags under his eyes betrayed the late nights of research.

The professor moved to hold the paper between both of them, and in doing so slipped his arm under Lysandre’s own; painfully close, but not quite, around his waist. The professor leaned against his desk “Is it section three that is leading you to that conclusion?"

Lysandre did not know what to say. What was in section three again? All he could think of in this moment was how Augustine knew exactly how to act, those same years that tore away his beauty brought the benefit of experience. Lysandre felt like a boy playing at adulthood. The clothes, the work, the effort, the company, all carefully placed and crafted, and torn down by a question and a failure to embrace. Augustine looked up at him from the paper, deep gray eyes waiting for an answer. There was none to give. Lysandre had no idea what he had been thinking. He didn’t even know what the paper was about. Instead, Lysandre thought about the kiss last week, and all the fantasies it had caused.

Lysandre leaned down ever so slightly, and Augustine leaned up. They kissed, one shoulder touching, both leaning on the desk facing towards the city. A deep, pitch black passion rose up inside Lysandre when they separated, a word was on Augustine’s lips but it didn’t matter to him. Lysandre moved in front and pushed Augustine back with a deeper kiss. He pressed his body against Augustine’s and was met with returned pressure, and arms around him. He moved the black hair from the professor’s face and ran his mouth to the other man’s ear, breathing heavily, wanting to progress but not wanting to offend.

Thin hands ducked under his shirt and ran up his chest. Lysandre responded in kind, unbuttoning his friend from the neck down, shrugging away the coat and that fateful Annoise shirt, pulling off his own turtleneck too fast to care where it landed. Two fingers slipped between Lysandre’s waist and pants, pulling him closer, gently tugging. He pushed himself against Augustine and rushed with excitement.

Lysandre moved his lips down his friend’s neck, and his hands undid the button at his waist. His mouth moved past his collarbone, and his fingers pulled down the zipper. His nose brushed across  Augustine’s bellybutton, and he tugged down his pants. Augustine inhaled deeply as Lysandre ran his lips across the head of his erection, flicked his tongue under the head and kept pressure with the back of his tongue and he slid around him, then away, and back down again slowly.

Augustine was gasping above him, and fumbling through a drawer for something. Lysandre liked seeing him flustered like this, it was a welcome change. With one hand firmly on Augustine’s waist the other moved behind Augustine gently.

A tap on his shoulder, Lysandre looked up. Augustine was beet red, holding out a tube. Lysandre ‘Mmmm'd in thanks sending Augustine’s head pitching back with a gasp. Lysandre drank in the sight, he felt so powerful in that moment. He let the lubricant warm in his hands for a moment, teasing Augustine while he waited. Before long he had slipped a finger inside, searching for the trigger to push Augustine over the edge. Augustine had kept surprisingly quiet thus far, Lysandre knew when he had found the right spot by the sudden gasp and stifled exclamation “Oh, go--" Lysandre ‘Mmmm'd again, smugly, and pushed Augustine deep down his throat while he finished, beginning to unbutton his own pants.

He rose up again to tower over Augustine while the man struggled to compose himself. Lysandre didn’t need, or want, him to be composed. He leaned in against the professor, holding his gaze.  Augustine kicked his pants off the rest of the way, forgotten, just in time. Lysandre grabbed him under the thigh and lifted him off the ground. A frantic arm grasped around Lysandre’s shoulders for stability and the other pushed his precious notes onto the floor. Lysandre slammed him down, a little too hard, on top of the desk. Without hesitation Lysandre pushed himself inside, and let go of his last shred of self control.

Augustine had his eyes clenched shut. “Open your eyes," Lysandre commanded. “I want you to look at me."

 

___

 

“Augustine, would you _stop_." Lysandre said, with a hint of embarrassment as he pushed the Professor’s hand out of his back pocket. glancing around the darkened streets. “We’re in public." He whispered harshly.

“No one cares about us. Equot;Augustine said. “Come on, my place isn’t far."

They had left the office behind, having lingered there all evening. Secretly Lysandre had feared that they would be parting ways once they left the office and his stomach jumped when Augustine mentioned his apartment. He would sooner admit the filthy parts of his fantasies than the parts where they had fallen asleep together afterwards, but there they were, just as prevalent in his mind.

“We should go to my apartment." Lysandre said in a whisper.

“Why are you whispering?" Augustine said, also in a whisper.

“I don’t know." Lysandre whispered back, annoyed and flustered. He couldn’t help but be keenly aware of a few eyes following them down the street.

“My place is closer, love." Augustine said, taking Lysandre by the hand. “Don’t look so cross."

“I’m not cross." Lysandre said, crossly.

“If we go to my place, we can cross the canal and look at prism tower on our way." Augustine said, snaking his arm around Lysandre’s waist. “Please?"

“Yes, fine. Just…" Lysandre regretfully removed Augustine’s arm. “There are people around."

“Are you embarrassed by me?" Augustine teased, taking Lysandre by the arm.

“Stop, Augustine." Lysandre said in a harsh whisper. He was about to pull away, but something shifted in the air and the mood turned tense. Augustine gripped him a little more tightly, but he was looking away . Following Augustine’s gaze he saw a group of men pointing at them from the front of a bar. “Ignore them" Lysandre said under his breath.

“I am, I know. Don’t worry" Augustine said with a tone of practiced calm. Lysandre was not sure if he should hold Augustine closer, or if he should pull away to stop attracting attention. As they passed the bar he heard the door open.

“Disgusting fuckin" perverts," one of the men called out. Lysandre and he almost stopped out of shock, but Augustine pulled him ahead. Was the world really so devoid of class?

“We need to just keep walking, they’re not going to do anything, they’re just drunk." Augustine whispered, gripping Lysandre’s arm ever tighter. The men were now approaching from behind. Sycamore whispered again, “Listen, it happens, we just need to walk away."

 _It happens. This happens?_ “This has happened to you before?" Lysandre said in an angry whisper. Why had he bed so goddamned affectionate if he knew about this?

“We’re almost at the canal." Augustine said, dodging the question and hastening his pace. “There will be other people there. They won’t do anything in front of other people."

“Hey, we’re talking to you two assholes." one of the men called. Lysandre did not look back, but he knew they were following.

“Shit" Augustine said under his breath. They had reached the canal at the far edge of South Boulevard, but there was no one to be found. It was too late in the night.

“Where you fuckin' going, _faggots_?"

Lysandre stopped at the height of the bridge over the canal. Augustine tugged his arm but he did not budge. It wasn’t fear, he would not allow it to be fear that stopped him. His tipping point had been reached. He had been called that word once before, and then he had done nothing. He shoved Augustine away a little more roughly than intended and reached for his pokeballs. What were these men? Nothing. He turned To face their pursuers, not realizing how close they had already gotten, and was met with a kick in the stomach. His hand slipped, and with a faint ‘plunk-plunk-plunk' Three of his team fell into the waters, unsummoned. Augustine gasped from behind. There was a shuffle, and then a loud splash as he dove headfirst into the canal. Lysandre had no time for that, he called out the last of his remaining team and with a glow of red light the tiny Kisai was standing, teeth bared, on the bridge.

“Haha, Pussy fighting with a pussy." One of the men laughed. Lysandre had meant to call out an attack, bite, flamethrower, fucking _ember_ , anything, but his voice would not come. One of the men reached back his foot aiming for the litleo and swung forward to connect. Lysandre lunged, white hot with rage. He heard a faint pathetic squeak to his right, and a small body landed a few feet farther down the bridge. Lysandre punched as hard as he was able to, knocking the man over with blood dripping from his mouth. His face was a bag of glass in sausage casing, and Lysandre did not stop. His fist connected again, again, again. The footsteps of two men ran towards them, yelling, but stopped when a bright light erupted in front of them.

“Fucking. Tear. Them. Apart." Lysandre had found his voice just in time to give the massive pyroar his first command. The men must have known a mismatched fight when they saw one, they spun around to run in the opposite direction. Not that it did them much good. Kisai was bred for speed, and Lysandre knew they had been caught with the first bone-splitting crunch. Vaguely, as if he was only controlling himself from a distance, he became aware that the man in front of him had stopped fighting back. He stood over the corpse and turned just in time to see the final attacker’s throat removed with a vicious bite. They hadn’t even had time to yell. The whole affair had been stunningly quiet. Were these events not supposed to be backed by dramatic music? Crickets chirped in the distance, and the professor’s faint splashes could be heard in the canal.

A calm resolution came over Lysandre. “Dump them," Lysandre said quietly to Kisai, bringing his own work to the edge of the water. There was a column here that would hide this mess from Augustine’s eyes. He couldn't know. The bodies hit the water with a quiet splash.

“What was that, Lys?" A panicked call came from the other side. “Lys?! Are you OK?"

“I’m OK" He called, holding out the ball for Kisai to return.

“Lys, I could only find two." A sobbing voice called back, breaking.

 _Two_. Lysandre rushed back to where Augustine had called, looking down. The professor was sitting astride Tarasque holding a single luxury ball overhead. Tears were streaming down his face. “Lys… I-I" and words failed him. Lysandre dove, still pumping with adrenaline. Everything around him seemed only to happen in short bursts. The water hit him. He was at the bottom of the canal, hands clawing through mud. A sphere ahead… no only a rock. Pressure was building in his chest. He broke the water’s surface. He was at the bottom again. He was clawing up nothing but trash and mud. Tarasque was beside him. The water was too muddy to see. He inhaled water. He was pushed over the banks of the canal. He threw up.

 

 

It was still dark when Lysandre’s eyes opened again. It felt like days had passed. Augustine was at his chest, sobbing. They were both still dripping with water. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry" came the muffled cries at his chest. Augustine was clutching one luxury ball tightly, and Lysandre held the other. Tarasque was in the canal spraying water on the streets to clean them, hiding his master’s crimes. “We can have the police dredge the canal. EAugustine said, muffled by Lysandre’s wet clothing.

 _No we can’t_ , Lysandre thought. “Are you alright?" He asked, with a hollow voice. He looked around, they were still alone. He must have only been out for a few seconds.

Augustine leaned up, tears flowing, pain contorting his face. He started to say something, but couldn’t get it out, he only nodded. Lysandre pushed Augustine back gently and sat up. “You need to go home." He said. There was aftermath to deal with, and Augustine did not need to be involved any further.

“Please Lys." Came the choked reply. Lysandre was already standing up, mind racing. Celosia would know what to do. He needed Celosia right now. He turned to head in the direction of his offices. “Lys…" Augustine begged again. Lysandre turned, only half aware.

Augustine sat on the once clean pavement beside the canal, not moving, caked with mud and tears. His eyes pleading. “Please don’t make me walk back alone. EHe whispered, voice thin with fear.

Something gripped Lysandre’s chest and refused to let go. It would be smarter to part ways here, smarter to remove Augustine from the situation. Cela would tell him to put Augustine in a taxi and leave. That was the correct choice. “You’ll be safe." Lysandre said in a whispered growl. “Come, we will go to my apartment. There is nowhere safer."

 

___

 

Celosia tapped her foot waiting for the elevator to reach the top floor. Lysandre had sounded angry, and when Lysandre was angry, there was something to worry about. After agonizing seconds the elevator stopped and, with a ‘ding," opened. Celosia walked briskly to the penthouse door.

The lights were off, save for the kitchen. Lysandre sat on the tile floors draped in a towel, his hair was hanging limply to match dregs of a cigarette on his lip. Before him was a menacing pyroar. Lysandre held a towel and was wiping blood from Kisai gently.

“Were you bitten?" Celosia said in a panic, kicking off her heels and running towards her boss. Sometimes, when a pokemon evolved, it stopped being obedient, and Kisai had never been particularly well trained.

“Shh, Cela." Lysandre said quietly and calmly. “I was not bitten." Kisai nuzzled the towel with an affectionate purr.

“What happened?" Celosia demanded, voice low.

“Cela. I can trust you above anyone else in the world..." Lysandre began.

“Yes sir." There was no hesitation in her voice.

“Look." Lysandre held up the bloody towel. “Do not give me false hope on a snap reaction. You will not have the opportunity to reconsider."

Celosia considered the blood, Kisai’s evolution, the late night call, Lysandre’s temper. There was nothing to doubt, “Sir." she said “Whatever you need, you can trust me."

Lysandre looked deep into her eyes. “Augustine is in the other room, asleep, he does not need to be involved in this." Celosia nodded in understanding, Lysandre turned back to Kisai and continued wiping away the blood. “Reynard is gone…" Lysandre began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: The pokemon village is a place where pokemon who were ‘abandoned by their trainers' live. Zoroark is catchable there.
> 
>  
> 
> Anywho, I am dreadfully embarrassed about this chapter. It was my first time ever writing erotica. Hopefully it didn't seem awkward. I kept writing little fluff bits in-between the sex and the murder scenes but they never added anything to the story so I ended up cutting them all. That resulted in a quick shift from a somewhat fluffy story to a darker one, but that's where I had planned to take it all along. I kind of like the sharp turn it took, but I also worry that it's too jarring.
> 
> If it sucks let me know (constructively please!) so I can revise it. If you liked it please dear god tell me so I can stop feeling so embarrassed. Thanks for reading!
> 
>    
> Art!
> 
>  
> 
> [ Lysandre wipes the blood from his Pyroar](http://24.media.tumblr.com/beedadeb06251033d4d79dbd416e1f92/tumblr_mwqmqo49NP1t0f5y4o1_500.png)
> 
>  
> 
> [ Aliana has a crush!](http://31.media.tumblr.com/21dfa1021275e0aa31f18f4b983680dc/tumblr_mwzam9CaZD1t0f5y4o4_500.png)


	7. Running Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustine is not good at talking about his feelings, and though he tries to fight the urge to escape, he can't. He falls back onto his old ways; 'out of sight, out of mind' but is it really that easy to forget about Lysandre?
> 
> Lysandre in turn has been both fearing and hoping for one specific report. Not even Augustine returning to apologize can push it out of his mind for long.

Somewhere in the distance an alarm was ringing. Augustine Sycamore reached out to his nightstand sleepily, not yet ready to get get up. He brought his hand down onto soft silk sheets instead of a wooden table. He reached again, and again found nothing but bed. In groggy confusion he leaned up, reaching for his nightstand. When he slammed his hand down to find the alarm clock the complete lack of nightstand threw him off balance and he face planted into the bed, arm smacking into the floor.

A heavy weight compressed the far end of the bed, causing Augustine to jump up, suddenly self aware. _Please let no one have seen that_ , Augustine thought, cringing at his lack of coordination. He looked up sheepishly, and was met with the fiercely curious face of a male pyroar. Augustine breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking around and wiping the sleep from his eyes Augustine took in the luxurious room around him. The bed alone was huge, covered in silk sheets and a thick black bedspread. The room was easily larger than Augustine’s own living room and dining room combined. Curtains were drawn but they did little to stop the sunlight that was streaming in. He peeked over the edge of the bed and found his holocaster, beeping away, in the pocket of his pants. He shut it off with great relief and flopped back down in the bed to peer up at the pyroar.

“Well aren’t you just the handsomest little guy?" He crooned, reaching up a hand for the pyroar to sniff. The pyroar nuzzled Augustine’s hand gently. “Lets see… I don’t think I know your name. I am Augustine." He smiled, placing his fingertips on his chest in introduction then reached up with both hands to scratch the pyroar under the chin. “You must be the little fluffball who scared off those men last night." The pyroar began to purr. “Awww, you’re not scary at all, those guys must have been big wusses." Augustine pulled the pyroar’s face down into his own and gave him a nuzzle. The pyroar opened its mouth and licked Augustine right in the face.

"KISAI." Came a sharp voice from across the room, punctuated by the sound of glass breaking. Kisai turned away quickly and Augustine pushed himself into a better position to see the doorway. Lysandre was standing, white as a sheet, with a tray in one bruised hand and a glass in the other. The glass had a fresh crack spreading across its surface where Lysandre had gripped it too tightly. Orange juice was dripping onto the floor. Seeing Augustine seemed to return some of the color to his face and his shoulders relaxed slightly. There was a beat of silence. “Off the bed." Lysandre commanded, and Kisai obediently hopped down.

“Are you ok?" Augustine asked hesitantly.

“I am fine." Lysandre said with a jagged edge that was clearly not fine. Still holding the broken glass in one hand Lysandre put the tray on the bed and turned to leave once again. “Kisai, come." He ordered.

“Is this for me?" Augustine called out to Lysandre’s back.

“Yes. I will get more juice. Please enjoy." He said as the door closed.

On the tray was a sizable spread of breakfast foods. Eggs over easy with a little bit of cheese and pepper, waffles with sides of strawberries and honey, perfectly crispy bacon and wonderfully browned sausages. Augustine tore in, wondering if Lysandre had a personal chef. It would surely be another woman that clung to his side like Celosia, or Mable, or possibly by now, Bryony. Augustine sensed a theme. Whoever it was, Augustine would need to stay over more often, if only to get more meals like this one. Of course, coming back again meant Augustine would need to get over this lingering urge to run.

Last night had turned sour fast. Augustine had run into problems when passing that particular bar before, but he usually had the foresight to plan his dates for a Friday or a Saturday so that when he hit the canal the crowd of tourists would ensure that nothing escalated. _It was my fault_ , Augustine thought miserably. On top of it all, rather than stay with his date and try to diffuse the situation, he had run. Sure, the excuse was valid, he wanted to save Lysandre’s pokemon from getting lost, but he hadn’t even done that properly. He left Lysandre there, a true testament to his cowardly nature. And even now, here he sat, eating the man’s food, wondering if he could get away with leaving quick and never talking to him again. Running away from the guilt. He had wanted his first try at really dating to be a little easier. _Maybe I could try again with someone else,_ he thought miserably, and a fresh wave of guilt crashed into him.

Lysandre returned with a new glass of juice and offered it to Augustine without a word. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and began to light a cigarette with a vacant stare. The bruises on both knuckles were a stark green and purple against his tan skin. His hair was up already, which surprised Augustine slightly, considering the rest of his attire consisted only of silk pajama bottoms and fluffy red slippers.

Augustine waved a bit of waffle on the end of his fork and said with a nervous voice, “It’s delicious, thank you. Did you already eat?"

“Yes, I ate as I cooked." Lysandre said vacantly.

“You cooked this?" Augustine said, surprised.

“Yes." Lysandre said, turning and focusing on Augustine. “I like to cook. I have the girls over on weekends for dinner to stay in practice."

“Wow, lucky them." Augustine said with a smile.

“Hm." Lysandre turned his eyes back and stared beyond the wall. A puff of smoke from his nose betrayed a heavy sigh.

Augustine looked around the room, hoping a topic would jump out at him. One did not. “I didn’t know you smoked." he said finally.

“Not since college." Lysandre said. He flicked a bit of ash onto one of the plates that Augustine had finished with. “Filthy habit." He inhaled deeply. “Last night…”Lysandre began. _Ahhh, abort, abort._ Augustine’s brain screamed at him but Lysandre continued on before he could offer an alternative topic. “Did you see what happened?" Lysandre’s eyes were focused on something far away.

“What happened when?" Augustine said awkwardly.

There was another pause, “After you jumped into the canal." Lysandre said.

“Well, ah, not really." Augustine said, stomach turning over. Why had he eaten so quickly? He continued on in a small voice “I was trying to…"  _Not look,_ he thought, “Save your pokemon," he said. Augustine knew that it was a solid defense, especially considering Lysandre only used luxury balls. A regular pokeball would open automatically in times of crisis to allow the pokemon inside an opportunity to defend itself. A luxury ball, however, was made with comfort in mind, not danger. When the exterior environment was too harsh for the pokemon inside, they locked to prevent the pokemon from being harmed. This meant the dropping a luxury ball into water was very very bad unless it contained a water pokemon. Even with this in mind, Augustine felt like he was hiding behind a flimsy excuse.

“Ah." Lysandre said, taking a short drag from his cigarette. His shoulders eased downward, but Augustine couldn't tell if it was relief or disappointment.

“Oh, well. You know," Augustine shrugged. “I saw some of the light from Kisai’s evolution while I was under water, and I heard them run off." His eyes flicked down to Lysandre’s bruised knuckles. “Looks like you got a good hit in before they got away" 

Lysandre turned his focus to his hands with a frown. “I did." He blew another little puff of smoke out through his nose. “I should have done it sooner. I could have cut it short quickly, before they made it worse." 

“That’s… not really the best way to deal with it." Augustine said hesitantly.

“I fail to see a better alternative." Lysandre said.

Augustine did not really know how to reply, fighting had never been an alternative to him, much less the best one. He was a little envious that Lysandre had the confidence to stand up for himself like that. He supposed it must be easier for tall men who clearly spend enough time on the _human_ side of a gym.

“There’s no sense in thinking about it now. It’s done." Lysandre said when it was clear that Augustine was not going to reply. His voice was still empty, still begging for comfort. Augustine wanted to be the kind of person who could offer that comfort, but the full extent of his experience with sadness was a detailed and varied list of ways to escape.

 

___

 

“Professor!" A girl called out from his doorway, letting herself in.

Professor Sycamore’s attention peeled away from his holocaster reluctantly, _one unheard message_. “Aliana! What brings you here?" Augustine smiled. He stood and held out a hand to take her pokedex. All of his students quickly learned to have it ready when they visited.

“I just wanted to show you my progress," She said, handing over the device. It hadn’t been that long since he had given her the charmander egg, and yet she had already done a sizeable amount of research on the Kalos Coastal region. “This is very impressive! You should try using pokemon abilities to lure out other wild pokemon." He said, handing back the pokedex.

"I have something else too!" Aliana smiled and reached into her bag. With a little flourish she pulled out a pokeball and tossed it onto the ground ahead of her. A flash of light illuminated the room and a charmeleon appeared before Augustine Sycamore.

“Aliana!" Augustine said excitedly “I didn’t even know he had hatched, much less evolved!" He knelt down to get a good look. It was a remarkable specimen, well groomed, clean teeth and a strong tail flame.

“Cain has been pushing me to train harder, so that we can help with your research. His name is Char by the way," Aliana said proudly. Augustine smiled, it was a relief to hear that Cain and Aliana were working together. Cain had been so disappointed to lose in the battle for the charmander egg, he had worried that he and Aliana would fight. But it had only been a few days of sulking before Augustine was able to give him his own squirtle egg and corresponding stone.

“That is a very short amount of time to get this far." Augustine said. “Make sure that you spend enough time on your emotional bonding and not just battle training." He warned.

“We will," Aliana said, giving Char a hug.

"Why didn't Cain come with you?" Augustine said, returning to his desk to search for pokemon treats.

"He was too focused on training to take the trip back." Aliana said, "He's in Shalour city. Apparently the gym leader and he have been talking about your research."

"Ahh, Korrina! I hope she is doing well." Augustine said, having found the tray of puffs. He held them out for Char, who began to eat them greedily.

"Yes, she was the most difficult battle we have had yet!" Aliana said with an enthusiastic grin. “But, she also seems to know something about the stones." Aliana said, with a little pat on the shoulder she coaxed Char to hold out the carnelian stone. Char showed the professor, but was holding it greedily and quickly closed his claw again to keep it safe.

“I’m glad to see it’s in safe hands." The professor said, with a little scratch under Char’s chin. “How about we go see your mom?" Augustine said to Char with a little croon. Char let out a little chirrup at the idea. Augustine smiled, it would be nice to leave the office for a little while.

“Has she evolved yet, professor?" Aliana said as they walked to the elevator.

“No, not yet" Augustine admitted with a little blush. He continued in a joking whisper, “I’m not the best trainer in the world." Aliana giggled while the professor continued, “I suppose it can't be helped, there are only so many hours in a day." Augustine said as they rode to the ground floor.

Augustine lead the way out the back of the building and into the small gardens. He and the students had carefully reconstructed small scale pokemon habitats here, so that any laboratory pokemon could be studied in a comfortable environment. It was lunch so many of the students were casually chatting away, or having a quick battle in the grass.

Prasiolite, Augustine’s bulbasaur, was the first to notice the professor and she began to bound over to him excitedly. “Prassi!" Augustine called, excited to see her. She was getting a little round in the belly but Augustine couldn’t help it and held out treats for her anyway. A tiny chirrup to the left was the only notice that they got before Carnelian had bounded over to tackle Augustine, and then her son in turn. The two pokemon chattered excitedly and the larger Charmeleon started to show off for his proud mom. Augustine held out another puff for Prassi and looked around for Topaz, his squirtle. Unsurprisingly she was playing in one of the students mock battles. She waved at Augustine but was too preoccupied to come over.

Aliana sat with a thump against one of the apple trees in the garden. “Ah! You are so lucky to get to play in the garden all day, and not have to traipse around in the mud!" She exclaimed.

Augustine held out yet another treat for Prassi, and gave Aliana a little pout, “This is very important research." 

Aliana rolled her eyes, and leaned back against the tree. Augustine sprawled out in the grass as well, scratching Prassi behind the ears and letting the faint breeze ruffle his hair. _I shouldn’t worry so much about the message_ , Augustine thought, but he couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach. Lysandre had invited him out multiple times since that night, but Augustine was just so busy with work. He wasn't dodging Lysandre exactly, but… _I’m not making the time either_ , He thought sadly. At first it had been guilt the kept him in the office for late nights, unable to meet. Then he had worried that it had been too long since they had spoken and he had ruined his chance to help. Now he was just ashamed of himself. _At this point, he probably doesn’t want to see me at all_. He was almost positive that the message waiting for him was an angry rebuke of Augustine’s disappearing act. He had gotten those before.

“Do you think that guy might come around today?" Aliana said, in a forced casual tone.

Augustine pulled himself out of his own mind, “Huh?" 

“You know," Aliana said with a little blush, “The guy, the... cute redhead one? You introduced me when I got Char’s egg?"

Augustine turned to her with an analytical gaze. Was it his imagination, or was she wearing PR makeup?" ..Why?" He asked with hesitation.

“No reason." Aliana said, gazing off into the sky. “Just wanted to say thanks, for, like, indirectly giving me Char." She shrugged.

 

___

 

“We now take you directly to the scene of the crime," Malva announced. Lysandre stood over his stove, motionless, and peered into the living room where the television was on and had been on for several weeks. “The attack took place here, last night. A woman was walking her furfrou when she was ambushed..." Malva’s voice continued, but Lysandre returned his attention to his risotto and resumed stirring. He was still safe. A mixture of disappointment, guilt and relief washed over him, just as they had with each passing news story. He was of course relieved that the bodies had not yet been found, but in the back of his mind the disappointment held firm. Even if they were discovered, he would at least be free to dredge the river to look for Reynard. In truth, he could do it now, but his own fear kept him away from that plan. Reynard sat, somewhere at the bottom of a canal, trapped and alone, because Lysandre couldn't risk being discovered. It was maddening.

A new story began, and with it Lysandre hoped for, and feared, the discovery. His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on his back. Mable looked up at him with concern in her eyes. “Lys, if it comes up, Malva will handle it. That's what we have her for," She said quietly. “The news drives me crazy, can’t we just go through dinner without it?" 

Lysandre inhaled slowly, exhaled, and nodded. Celosia had put together a story for Malva to report if the bodies were found. Malva wasn’t in on the details, of course, but she was smart enough to figure it out. Even with all of the campaign funding and their friendship in mind, perhaps her journalistic integrity would be stronger.

Lysandre had told Mable about the incident after a few days, when Augustine had declined his request for dinner a second time. She had understood straight away, as she always did, and was a welcome ear for Lysandre to talk about Reynard. It was foolish to consider talking to Augustine about it in any case, if he opened up about Reynard, the rest of that night's events might come spilling out as well. He knew he could trust his girls with anything… although Bryony was still in the dark.

Mable turned the TV off and Lysandre’s apartment was filled instead with the sounds of cooking and chatter. Mable rejoined Bryony and Celosia at the table, talking about nothing in particular. Lysandre supposed it was less tense with the television off. He could focus on the meal for tonight. He had the steak resting and the risotto was--

A knock at the door sent the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Kisai and Charlemagne looked up from the sofa with matching territorial glares. “Bre, please watch the food." Lysandre said, heading towards the door. He didn’t trust her yet with secrets, but he trusted her first with his cooking.

Lysandre opened his front door and was greeted with a surprising view. Augustine Sycamore looked up at him from the entryway, but quickly looked down to the ground. “Hi" He said, sadly.

Lysandre’s floor only had his penthouse, so even though the hallways were public, technically, it was more private than the apartment right now. Lysandre stepped into the hallway, shut the door behind him, and crossed his arms. “Hi," He replied curtly, looking down his nose at Augustine.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately." Augustine said, with an apologetic smile. It was really, truly, unequivocally infuriating. Lysandre could feel his mouth thin into a frown. Augustine continued, “I got your invitation." 

“We’ve already started dinner." Lysandre said, staring at where Augustine’s eyes would be, if they could meet his. Out of three invitations, two had been outright refused and the last had been ignored. There was no way he could forgive that.

“Ah. well." Augustine's hand reached up to mess with the back of his hair. The silence stretched on, and Lysandre allowed it. Finally Augustine’s shoulders fell and his eyes rose to met Lysandre’s “I’ve been an asshole." He admitted, palms out in a defeated gesture, “It was shitty of me, I’m not good at this. I'm sorry." It was almost a challenge, as if to say 'What do you expect?' but Augustine’s furrowed eyebrows betrayed the difficulty he was having.

Lysandre uncrossed his arms and brought two fingers to his forehead, wishing he hadn't decided to quit smoking again that morning. Was it wrong to forget everything and start over?  _Would Reynard forgive me, if I've already waited this long to go get him?_  Lysandre thought, and then immediately regretted thinking it. He couldn’t very well turn away Augustine now. In spite of his anger Lysandre reached out and pulled Augustine close, hugging a little too hard. “I am so pissed off with you." He said angrily. The relief didn't make it into his voice, by his own intention. Augustine hesitated for a moment, but soon wrapped his arms around Lysandre’s waist. "Mable is going to make you pay." He muttered into Augustine's soft black hair, "She's mad that you did that again."

"Again?" Augustine said, pulling back slightly, but realization was soon apparent on his face, "Oh... She told you." He winced slightly.

"She did, in fact, tell me." Lysandre said with a little scowl. After finding out that Augustine had rejected his second dinner invitation with a flimsy excuse Mable was quick to talk about her and Augustine's short fling. "Not particularly pleased about  _that_  either," Lysandre said. Augustine said nothing. "We haven't actually started dinner yet, come inside." Lysandre said in a gentler tone, turning towards the door.

Augustine pulled away, "Ah, I really shouldn't interrupt." He said, but Lysandre had his palm against the small of Augustine's back and was pushing him forward regardless. He opened the door and Augustine reluctantly entered. The three girls inside turned to look at them, each with a different shade of surprise on their faces.

"Augustine, what a  _shock_!" Mable said with biting sarcasm. "It's so  _rare_  for you to show up to something  _unannounced_." She raised her eyebrows with a glare.

"Yes, I'll have to be careful or I'll get a reputation for being unreliable," Augustine matched her sarcasm. Mable allowed a short sharp laugh, partially masked by her wine glass. Lysandre caught Celosia's eye for a moment, she frowned and shook her head by just a millimeter.

Ignoring the cue Lysandre instead turned to the kitchen where Bryony was beginning to plate. "Ah Bryony," Lysandre said with a little note of panic, "You need to cut the steak like--"

"Sir, I know how to cut the steak." Bryony interrupted kindly, "I've worked in a kitchen before."

Even so, Lysandre took the knife from her and resumed his kitchen duties. This was still his meal, and he deserved the right to serve it himself.

Bryony frowned up at him, upset that he didn’t let her assist. He had practically forced her to sit and relax all evening, "Will you get everyone some more wine, please?" He asked, searching for a compromise.

"Yes.  _Wine_. That will help," Mable called in a caustic tone from the dining room, finishing off her glass.

"It may," Augustine said in a tone to match, seating himself at her side, "If I'm too drunk to walk, I can't run off." Mable exhaled sharply, trying to hide her laugh.

Lysandre never particularly cared for self deprecating humor, but he had to admit it was an effective means for disarming Mable.

 

___

 

To Lysandre's right Augustine had finally fallen asleep from the wine. He was sitting mostly upright on the sofa, but his head had rolled forward uncomfortably. Farther to the right Mable had curled up using Kisai as a pillow. The two had bickered in a joking way all through dinner, egged on by their drinks. Celosia and Bryony both held their drink with more grace and were now cleaning up in the kitchen. Presently no one was looking, so...

Lysandre reached his arm over the back of the sofa and gently pushed Augustine to the left, off balance. Augustine didn't wake up, thankfully, but did tip over enough that he was leaning against Lysandre's chest. Lysandre smiled to himself smugly. Considering his options for a moment, and perhaps with a little influence from his own wine, he rested his arm around Augustine, enveloping him.

There was a momentary peace, but Lysandre could not resist turning on the news yet again. He turned the volume down quickly, so as not to disturb Augustine and Mable. On the screen Malva's usual pretty face was twisted into a grimace. "New reports from the unfolding situation in the Unova region." She said with a tone of remorse. "We have just received word that while Team Plasma was defeated, some of their weapons were used to forcefully release pokemon."

 _Team Plasma?_  Lysandre thought,  _weren't they a pokemon rights group?_  "Cela, come here." He called, struggling to keep quiet.

"Sir?" Celosia walked over briskly. She saw the screen, now flashing with images of people injured by the released pokemon, and said "Oh no, what is this?" Dull anger was beginning to throb at Lysandre's temple.

Malva's voice continued on screen "I would like to assure viewers that these weapons have been deactivated at this point, but some local communities are still experiencing chaos and confusion from the unexpected release of many hundreds of pokemon. Though the potential destruction was averted, the situation is still unfolding." The camera cut away from Malva to show a massive structure rising tall over what appeared to be the remains of the Unova League’s Victory Road.

"Team Plasma, apparently." Lysandre said.

"oh no..." Celosia trailed off.

"Please tell me, Cela," Lysandre said, trying to remain calm, "That we were not, infact, providing charity to this group. Because for some  _insane reason_  I seem to remember approving something along those lines in our budget."

"ah..." Celosia trailed off, rummaging through her purse for her planner.

"It would make me very happy to find out that, maybe for once, just once, I don't have ties to a group of extremists." Lysandre said, glaring at the television. Celosia flipped through her pages, frantically. Lysandre was getting angrier now, "It would really.  _Really_. Be preferable to me if some of our money actually went towards  _sane_  humanitarians."

Celosia seemed to have landed on a page, she looked up from her planner, tapping her lower lip with a finger. "That would certainly be nice for me to say."

"But you're not saying it."

"No sir."

Lysandre inhaled slowly, and exhaled.

"What's going on?" Bryony said, walking in from the kitchen. 

Lysandre hurriedly shrugged Augustine from his shoulder upon her arrival.

"Little situation," Celosia said, scribbling in her planner in alternating blues and reds, "Sir, we will immediately cut funding, of course, and redirect it to disaster relief efforts."

Lysandre scowled at the television. "Wasn't it just last year that we had to redirect funding from the Team Galactic incident?"

"Well, to be fair" Celosia said hesitantly, "It's been closer to two years since then."

"Remind me where we transferred those grants." Lysandre said darkly.

"Ah... Pokemon rights groups such as-"

"Team Plasma" Lysandre interrupted.

"...Yes sir." Celosia said.

“Cela, didn’t you mention something about Team Magma-" Bryony’s curiosity was cut short with a matched glare from Celosia and Lysandre. 

I guess she does know afterall, Lysandre thought unhappily.

Lysandre did not like to think about Team Magma. They had such promise, more land would reduce scarcity, it was a noble goal. He didn’t even want to think about what his life would have become if he had stayed in Hoenn. He had been full of such ideals in college. “Cut all humanitarian funding immediately." Lysandre said. From the corner of his eye he saw Celosia switch to her pencil for this note. “No, Cela. I’m serious, and I am calm. Red Pen." 

“Sir, I don’t think that is the best idea. Considering possible… future events... establishing charity will be important for image protection." She said, still holding the pencil.

“It hardly helps my image if I keep  _funding terrorists_. Red. Pen." Lysandre said. With a disapproving sigh, Celosia wrote the note in red.

The news report continued, now covering the pokemon releasing weapons that had been confiscated. Images of machinery flashed across the screen. His initial anger was beginning to abate. Pokemon releasing weapons? Malva was talking about their long range capabilities from the television.  _Something that could override luxury ball safety mechanisms._

He glanced at Augustine, still asleep but now leaning against the back of the sofa, then turned to face over his left shoulder, speaking quietly to Celosia, “Arrange a meeting A.S.A.P. with Research and Development." He turned back, needing to focus his attention on the news. If he could get something like that weapon, could he save Reynard? Celosia waited for a moment before putting away her planner, but Lysandre was lost in thought and did not address her again.

 

___

 

A faint chill was what awoke Lysandre that morning. He was laying on the sofa, with one arm and one leg hanging off of the side, and he was alone. The television was still quietly displaying breaking news. Pushing himself up he looked around the room with a sinking feeling, no one was here. Lysandre fell back onto the sofa, disappointed.  _I guess he wasn’t too drunk to leave._

The girls must have left sometime after the news report had started, but what about Kisai and Charlemagne? Lysandre looked around the sofa, but saw nothing. They had taken to sleeping near him for the last few weeks, it was strange for them to be gone. “Kisai, Charlemagne" Lysandre called out, curiously. He heard padded footsteps walking out from the bathroom.

“Good, you’re awake! I used your toothbrush, is that OK?" Augustine said.

Lysandre felt relief for an instant before it was replaced with irritation.  _My toothbrush, seriously?_  Lysandre pushed himself up to see over the edge of the sofa, Augustine Sycamore was standing in the hallway wearing a set of oversized pajamas, holding a toothbrush and smiling. With his other arm he was holding Charlemagne, and Kisai nuzzled his leg.

“Are you wearing my pajamas?" Lysandre asked.

“Oh, yes." Augustine said, glancing down, returning the toothbrush to his mouth. “I shpilled wine on me while I was sleepin." He looked up at Lysandre with a joking smile and struck a pose, with one hand on his hip, “They shuit me." His speech was slurred by the toothbrush and the bit of foam in his mouth.

“You look like an idiot." Lysandre grumbled.

Augustine raised an eyebrow and chuckled, turning back to the bathroom. Lysandre heard the faucet run for a moment before Augustine called back, “You’re one to talk. Nice bedhead." 

Lysandre felt his face flush as he realized that he had slept without taking his hair product out. He reached up a hand and was met with a wild knot of stiff hair. Grumbling, he followed Augustine to the bathroom, pulling his shirt off over his head as he went. “I am still mad at you." He said, inspecting his hair in the mirror.

“I’ll make it up to you today." Augustine said, pushing himself up to sit on the counter.

“Hmm." Lysandre said, leaning forward to check the corners of his eyes for wrinkles, falling asleep like that could not possibly be good for his skin, but there didn’t appear to be any damage done. “How?" Lysandre said finally.

“Anything you want." Augustine said.

“I suppose I could go for some coffee." Lysandre pulled out his holocaster to check the time, and was met with an unheard message notification.

“Just coffee? Come on." Augustine said incredulously.

Lysandre smiled and pressed play, thinking of what else he might want to do. Celosia’s image flickered into view. “R&D is able to meet today, at 11." She said, and the message ended.

Lysandre looked at the time quickly, “Ah, I only have an hour," He said, turning on the shower faucet.

“What?" Augustine said, “It’s Saturday." he whined.

“You’ve never worked on a Saturday?" Lysandre scoffed.

“Well… yes I have." Augustine admitted reluctantly.

“How about a rain check on the coffee." Lysandre said.

Augustine sighed and hopped off the counter, pushing himself into Lysandre’s arms. “Can I stay while you get ready?" He asked.

Lysandre leaned forward, pulling Augustine to him with one finger under his chin. “ok. But then you have to go." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been reading along as I update you may notice that this chapter used to be split in two, but I realized that having them be in the same chapter conveyed Sycamore's jealousy and resultant appearance for dinner a little more clearly. So I put them in the same chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> [Important Research](http://24.media.tumblr.com/78a7c0705f70288f8303e81d28785e39/tumblr_mwzl51j1FA1t0f5y4o1_500.png)


	8. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustine Sycamore attends the grand opening of Lysandre's cafe, but Lysandre wants to avoid public displays of affection of any kind, which is more than a little maddening for the attention-oriented professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is intended for mature audiences.
> 
> Some edits have been made to previous chapters to improve character development and pacing, nothing big, just one or two sentences. What was formerly Chapter 8 is now at the end of Chapter 7, also for pacing purposes.

Augustine Sycamore leaned against a table, sipping yet more wine. He flipped up one side of his shirt collar when no one was looking, making himself look intentionally disheveled. Lysandre had bought it for him earlier that day, another Annoise design. The designer had become something of a jest between them.

A few feet away Lysandre stood, towering over four women who chatted happily. Mable hooked closely on one arm, Bryony on the other at a distance, Celosia smiling at a flirty Malva. Lysandre looked comfortable in his silence, standing like a centerpiece in his expertly fitted suit, chosen for him by Mable, who was on his arm. Clinging there like a barnacle. Clinging to his arm.

Augustine caught himself scowling and hid it behind his wine glass. When he reemerged from the drink his expression was cheery once again. He smiled at Mable, and was given a sassy grin in return. She didn’t mean it as a slight, he knew that. Their friendship had progressed in recent weeks fueled by sarcasm, and biting wit, and gossip, and maybe a little innocent flirting when Lysandre was out of the room. In this context, with her at his side and everyone treating it as normal, he couldn’t help but take offence. His smile faltered into a sour grimace, and he needed to return to the wine glass for a remedy.

With a jolt of excitement he saw Lysandre disengage from the girls for a moment and walk over to him. “For god’s sake, it’s like your shirt is in open rebellion." He said, flipping Augustine’s collar back down and smoothing it against his shoulder. The touch sent a spark through Augustine's chest, and he ticked the counter in his head up to seven. Seven times the trick had worked, and he felt both delighted and ashamed.

“Thankfully, I have you here to keep me in sorts." He said, careful to enunciate his words. He reached out for Lysandre’s arm, desperate to show some kind of affection. He deserved to have the fruits of his restraint acknowledged. The waitresses here, in particular, were stunning. His reach was intercepted by Lysandre’s hand, and he was pushed away gently.

“We can leave within the hour." Lysandre said, in an attempt at reassurance. Augustine should have expected as much. Even though Lysandre had warned him that he wanted to be 'subtle' as he put it, Augustine didn’t realize it was going to bother him as badly as it did.

Augustine hid again behind the wine, “I’m having a fine time. Let’s stay," he said dismissively. He would be damned if they were leaving before someone had seen them together. Lysandre looked at him with a frown and one raised eyebrow. “Have a drink with me." Augustine offered.

“I’ve already had one." Lysandre said, indicating his empty glass.

“That wasn’t with me. Just let go a little." Augustine pleaded. “You’ll be happier for it." 

“I’d rather be miserable and in control of myself." Lysandre said, Augustine couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a joke.

“You and I are very different people. I think I’ll go get more wine." He said, eying a waiter from across the room. He leaned forward to walk but was stopped by Lysandre’s hand, holding firmly to his elbow.

“Bryony will keep you company." Lysandre said, gesturing for Bryony to come over.

In an angry whisper Augustine replied “That’s not the company I want." But she was already there.

“Bre, if you would be so kind," Lysandre said, offering her the elbow he was holding. She took it, and Augustine wobbled slightly as Lysandre’s firm grip receded. Bryony adjusted herself as an anchor point to hold him up.

“Ah, I see," Augustine muttered to himself. “Bre, I am drunk." He informed her.

“No more than me." She smiled conspiratorially.

“You have poise!" Augustine said, a little surprised “Is that something they teach at Lysandre’s office?" Augustine turned to grin at Lysandre, but he had already gone back to the group and the grin turned fowl.

“No, it’s taught on Monday mornings at Lumiose University." She giggled.

“Bryony!" Augustine said, scandalized. “You had my class on Monday mornings." 

“And I’d already taken it twice." She reminded him.

With a little laugh Augustine took the lead across the cafe, leaning on Bryony as needed. It was an elegant affair this evening. Lysandre assured him that was just a show for the grand opening and the cafe was intended as a casual establishment. Something about the deep crimson walls and jet black furniture suggested that Lysandre did not know the meaning of ‘casual." 

It was a strange choice, a cafe, for a man who didn’t particularly enjoy people. He didn’t like romance, relaxing, small talk, and so many other things that were intrinsically linked with the idea of a cafe. _He enjoys cooking_ , Augustine supposed, _would a restaurant not be a better choice?_ But then he didn't seem to enjoy having people eat any of his food either. He liked preparing, plating, and presenting it to his guests, but his eye twitched ever so slightly whenever someone cut in and started to enjoy themselves. A cafe did have that benefit; most of the food was placed under glass for patrons to consider, but ultimately only order a coffee or a tea. Augustine felt a little jealous at this thought. Lysandre had taken great care in dressing Augustine ‘properly' that afternoon only to leave him on the sidelines of his little circle, Mable was the  'Tea.' Augustine furrowed his browand thought; _This metaphor has gone awry._ He didn’t have time to straighten it out before he had found a glass in his hand, Champagne this time. Bryony tapped her own against it with a ‘clink.'

“You know, Bre, Lysandre and I are probably dating." Augustine said, as though he was revealing a juicy piece of gossip. It was exciting to say the word ‘dating,' it wasn’t a word he was terribly familiar with.

“I know," Bryony said smiling.

" _No one fucking else does._ "Augustine said with venom. What was the point of the word if he didn’t get to use it?

“May knows, Cela knows. Mal probably knows." Bryony said kindly.

“They don’t count." Augustine said gloomily.

“We count!" Bryony exclaimed, sipping her drink.

“You know I’ve spent more time with you this evening than I have with him." He leaned against her shoulder. “We should be dating." 

“I like being alive far more than I like you." Bryony said.

“We could fuck in the kitchen." Augustine said, staring off through the kitchen doors where a waiter had just left.

“Professor!" Bryony said with a shocked laugh.

“Sorry, no," Augustine brought his champagne glass up to his lips. “I didn’t mean you." He pulled her a little closer by the arm, “But that would make him so jealous." He grinned at her.

“Check it out." Bryony said, with a little laugh, pulling closer. “It already is." 

Augustine’s eyes snapped to the corner of the room where Lysandre stood, but the quick motion had made him more than a little dizzy. By the time his focus had returned Lysandre was looking away. “Was he looking?" Augustine whispered happily, leaning on Bryony’s shoulder, but the feeling turned dark, “Arceus, Listen to me. I’ve been fucking him for _weeks_ , and I’m worried if he’s looking at me at a party." 

“I’m going to file that mental image away for later," Bryony said with a grin.

“You are crude," Augustine laughed. “You have permission for myself naturally, but he is your boss." 

“But his shoulders are so broad." Bryony raised her eyebrows.

“They _are_." Augustine gushed. “And he is so very _tall_." 

“And fit." Bryony said.

“And fit" Augustine agreed with a nod. “Why were we not friends while you still went to university?" 

“Did you have female _friends_?" Bryony asked sarcastically.

“When they were students, yes!" Augustine said. “M-mostly." 

Bryony exhaled sharply through her drink. “Let’s get some fresh air?" She offered. “Take your mind off of it." 

Augustine didn’t provide affirmation so much as drag Bryony out the door and onto the streets of Lumiose. The front of the cafe was just as busy as the interior, albeit with more cigarette smoke, so the pair wandered drunkenly to a statue in the plaza. Augustine sat suddenly by the edge of the fencing. He hadn’t planned on tipping over quite yet, but it was all the same. Bryony sat dramatically beside him, Augustine couldn’t help but feel as though she was putting on a show for his benefit.

“I am going to talk about something that is not Lysandre." The professor announced proudly, raising his glass in toast.

“Excellent, choice." Bryony said.

“I’ve decided to call it mega evolution." He started in the middle of a thought from earlier that day.

“What a stupid name," Bryony laughed.

“It is stupid name, for a stupid theory, that I don’t expect is at all true." The professor said with a laugh.

“What is it?" Bryony asked

“I don’t know yet, but Aliana is going to find out for me." The professor said. “She called me today about battling Cain again." 

“Who is Cain?" 

“If it was anyone but Aliana, that boy would be a champ, but she’s got that spark, you know." 

“Who is Aliana?" 

“She got this ring thing, and Korrina says it’s the key." Augustine continued on, without a thought to Bryony’s questions.

“I do know Korrina." Bryony said, holding up a finger.

“Cain is probably making her miserable. I’m going to call her." Augustine said, pulling out his holocaster.

“Yessssssss, drunk calls!" Bryony pumped her fist in the air.

“I have to pretend to be sober, because I am her professor." Augustine stretched forward and leaned back, focusing on having a clear mind. “ok. ok… I’m good." He hit ‘record." 

“Aliana! I am just calling to make sure you’re doing alright." It occurred to him that he wanted her to be there, he could have his own little posse of girls and get attention as well. “You should come by, I am at a party by Magenta Plaza and we can discuss mega evolution, which is what I have decided to call it. I am with Bryony, you would like her." He turned the camera to show Bryony waving. He thought; _Aliana must be busy on such short notice, how exactly can I be sure that she will show up?_ “and Lysandre is here." he concluded. He hit stop, and the message sent.

What did I just say? Some sober part of his brain thought with horror. Augustine whispered, “Bryony." 

“What?" She whispered back.

“I should not have sent that to her." He replied with a guilty little giggle.

 

___

 

Mable wasn't attracted to Lysandre at all, she just craved the attention the same as Augustine did. They were kindred like that. Bryony liked him well enough but strangely seemed to prefer fantasy over any real physical affection. Celosia was always looking out for him but she was all business, a schedule book turned human. Malva was clearly a lesbian, and too brash at that. These women were not threats. Aliana, however, was cute and very very interested. She stood between Augustine and Malva at the opposite edge of the circle from Lysandre, wearing a quaint black dress and definitely wearing makeup this time. Augustine had hoped for a moment when she arrived that she was too young to enter, but apparently she had just hit the drinking age earlier that summer.

Mable leaned in to Augustine's ear to whisper, "You’ve fucked up," with evil glee.

Augustine did not need to be told that. The worst of it, the very worst thing, was that Lysandre was utterly fascinated with her. She had hatched and evolved her charmander so _quickly_! She had battled for Korrina's mysterious ring and _won_ it! She had so many gym badges _already_! What exactly were _her_ theories in regards Professor Sycamore's work? What _fascinating_ ideas!

It was _awful_.

Professor Sycamore coughed slightly and muttered "I think I am going to see if I can find any ginger ale." He needed to get started on heading off that hangover, and he had about enough of the conversation anyway. Stepping away from the group he focused all of his energy on staying upright, maintaining his dignity, and wandered into the kitchens.

"Sir? Can I help you?" A waiter said, intercepting him as he pushed open the door. Augustine was about to reply when another voice spoke from behind him.

"Thank you, Eric, we are just looking for a drink." Lysandre said, stepping into sight at Augustine's left.

The waiter blushed and nodded, getting out of the way. Lysandre guided Augustine by the small of the back, as he was fond of doing, the pair walked towards a quiet part of the kitchen.

"We can leave." Lysandre said quietly. "I am very tired of this party, and I have already stayed much longer than I wanted to."

"I just want some ginger ale." Augustine said. "I don't want to leave. I haven't had a good time yet."

"That is why we should leave." Lysandre said.

"No, that is why we should go back and you should be nice to me a little." Augustine said in a huff.

"Augustine." Lysandre frowned.

"I just want you to talk to me like you talk to Ally. Or May, or Bre for that matter. You like them. You're all having a great time, and I'm just cockblocked all night."

"Augus--"

"Have you and Mable fucked? Because I fucked her and, you know, I think I'm better. I said it, whatever."

"Au--"

"Just don't fuck Ally, because I have to work with her."

Lysandre grabbed Augustine by the shoulders. "Augustine. I am not interested." He said definitively. "You are projecting your feelings onto me. I should be the jealous one, though to my credit I am not."

"Projecting?" Augustine said, slightly offended.

"Yes, _you_ find Aliana attractive, just as you do Mable and Bryony, _and_ the waitresses, _and_ the waiters," Lysandre waved his hand dismissively towards the party. "and damn near everyone else. Have some standards."

Augustine ignored the insult. "You're jealous." he said, with a little bounce of excitement.

"I am no such thing. You are already mine, that is why you are in here bitching at me and not one of them." Lysandre said, straightening the collar of Augustine's shirt again, even though it had not been displaced. "You at least have the decency to pick the best option available."

Augustine wondered if the concept 'cocky bastard' could manifest as physical matter, and if Lysandre was composed entirely of it or just mostly.

 _Why do I like it so much?_ He thought, and pushed Lysandre back into a wall, unable to control himself for another second. With fumbling hands he pulled apart the buttons at Lysandre’s chest, weaving his arms under the fabric but leaving it on. When Lysandre was undressed was just as assured and confident as he was when fully clothed. However, partially dressed, with his shirt open and hanging loosely about his arms, he looked like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Mon parfait, this way." Lysandre whispered, pulling Augustine through a side door. The sounds of the party were a little louder here than they had been in the kitchens, and for a brief perversely exciting moment Augustine wondered if they were going back to fuck in public, but it was only a dark room. He could hear the party from a distance and that would have to be good enough.

Lysandre had pulled him in by the shirt. His palm was pressed against Augustine’s pants while he tried to undo Augustine’s belt buckle. Augustine pressed in closer, reveling in the pressure and heat on his cock. He inhaled deeply and ran his mouth along Lysandre’s collarbone, his hands along his back, feeling muscles tighten underneath.

“You are making this very difficult." Lysandre complained. Augustine only smiled, reaching his own hand down and undoing Lysandre’s belt with practiced ease, slipping his hand down and around Lysandre’s erection for a single teasing stroke. Lysandre had finally solved the mystery of Augustine’s belt and made short work of his button and fly.

“Fuck me." Augustine breathed heavily, pushing Lysandre’s hands down the back of his pants.

“We don’t have any…" Lysandre said trailing off as Augustine kissed him.

“Go grab some oil out of the kitchen." Augustine said, pulling away for just a moment.

Lysandre’s expression was instantly horrified. “That is for cooking." 

“Fine, then we can do without." Augustine said, pushing himself against Lysandre fully.

“That will hurt." Lysandre protested.

“Then hurt me," Augustine said, frustrated. “It will be fine."

He could feel Lysandre’s fingers twitch slightly. He looked to be caught in utter turmoil, struggling with a very difficult decision. Finally he leaned in against Augustine’s ear and whispered deeply, “are you sure?" Sending a hot breath across his neck. Augustine grabbed the edges of Lysandre’s jacket, knees giving out a little. He bit his lower lip and nodded vigorously.

Lysandre teased him with a gentle finger, then two, pulling Augustine closer and pushing against him with furious intensity. Lysandre was not much for kissing when he was focused elsewhere, leaving Augustine free to wander his mouth across his neck and shoulders. Yet again that evening Lysandre’s free hand found the small of Augustine’s back, and he guided the other man against the wall, facing it now, no longer embracing. He held Augustine’s wrists against the wall with one hand, and his hip with the other, easing himself inside.

It did hurt, but the alcohol numbed it, and Augustine was not a stranger to this in any case. Lysandre’s fingers were digging into his hips, pulling himself deeper. Just the idea of Lysandre desperately fucking in a dark room made the pain tolerable, even pleasurable. He wrenched on hand from Lysandre’s grip to tug at himself furiously. They pushed into one another harder, faster, breathing hard.

With a low growl Augustine felt Lysandre shudder his orgasm inside. The thought of it sent Augustine over the edge only seconds after. For a moment they stayed together, panting, before Lysandre pulled away with a kiss on Augustine’s neck.

Augustine leaned against the wall, breathless and sweaty. With one hand he tugged his pants back up, and turned to fall with his back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. The euphoria was fleeting, and all too soon a kind of clarity came into Augustine’s mind. It was a sad feeling. “I don’t like this," he said. Lysandre only looked at him, buttoning up his own pants, waiting for an explanation. “This isn't who I am, and it shouldn't be who you are. We’re fucking in a closet, how cliche is this?" 

“This is a hallway." Lysandre corrected tonelessly, missing the point entirely. “I thought it was obvious." 

“Its not obviously a hallway, I can’t even see. It’s dark in here. Why is there a hallway here?" Augustine said angrily, falling off track far too easily, even for him.

“No, I meant, It’s obvious why we are being secretive." Lysandre sighed, kneeling down and grabbing Augustine’s shoulders to make him focus. “How much have you had to drink?" 

“Enough." Augustine said. “It’s not obvious." 

“Do you have a cigarette?" Lysandre asked, and then shook his head with one hand raised, cancelling the request. Instead he said, “I am an only child," drawing a connection that Augustine could not follow. He looked at the man blankly, trying to piece together the logic. Lysandre seated himself on the floor in front of Augustine. “Not only that, I am the last heir to my family line. There are expectations in place that have been in place from day one. Do you not know this?" 

“Why would I know that?" Augustine asked, annoyed.

Lysandre squinted at him in confusion, “because you are an intelligent man who makes a living drawing connections, and my family records are publicly available." 

“What? I’m not going to snoop through your-" Augustine paused, “you know damn well everything about me, don’t you?" 

“My business is to know things about people." Lysandre said simply, unapologetically. “And, in truth, my business is not really my business. It is a family enterprise that I oversee. That is not to say I don’t deserve it," Lysandre said pointedly. “But holocasters are owned by Lysandre Labs, which is owned by the De’lis Company, which is somewhat of a family heirloom, and it is expected that it stay in the family." 

Augustine finally made the connection. He had always thought of Lysandre as a self made man. Looking at it now, he was still so young, it was ludicrous to think he had built it up by himself. Behind the scenes there was a family, along with all the expectations that followed.

“My mother specifically expects a grandson." Lysandre leaned back against the opposite wall, stretching his arms behind his head. "She made her position clear years ago, and she won't hesitate to strip me of my heritage to get her way."

“If you’re the last son, doesn’t that defeat the purpose?" Augustine asked.

“That would be true, if she didn’t know it would work. She proved as much when I was in college."

"What happened?" Augustine asked, budding with curiosity, he didn’t often get to hear about Lysandre’s life.

Lysandre paused. He gave Augustine a glower, assessing him before he spoke. "This is a personal story." He said, his voice heavy with subtext. _This is proof of my trust_ , was what it meant, _don't break that trust_. "I went to Lumiose college for business, at her command naturally. I met a man there, strong willed with great conviction. He was a student of Environmental Sciences. We were great friends. We made plans to study abroad in Hoenn. Approval for the trip was a stretch under my degree, but I made it happen none the less. Then..." He trailed off for a moment, look at something far away. "We started seeing one another.

I thought it would be fine while we stayed in Hoenn." Lysandre closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "But she found out anyway. She was livid, she demanded that I return to Kalos immediately, the semester was ending in a week anyway. I told him, and then he..." Lysandre stopped, his voice was even, almost monotone when he continued. "He said that he was staying in Hoenn, he had found a cause. He wanted me to stay too.

I stayed for a month. I was cut off in full, nothing to my name. We had some shithole apartment, and he was fine with it. But I... used to be so spoiled." Lysandre shrugged, “I guess I still am. In the end, I left and went back to school, and he stayed there. And she started carting out these girls for me to pick from, week after week. So I took on a heavier course load to avoid it all, and graduated early."  He opened his hands, palms out, as if to say; _That's it_.

It must have been an awful situation, Augustine couldn't even imagine having to deal with something like that, and then to speak so calmly about it all. Unfortunately his mouth only came up with: "That must have been some bad apartment." In an awestruck voice.

A wry smile threatened to crack across Lysandre's face and he laughed. "I found a pinsir in the toilet on more than one occasion."

"UGH, _What_?" Augustine said, horrified at the thought, but happy to hear Lysandre's laugh.

"It was not just that." Lysandre admitted, "I had goals for myself that I saw slipping away as I stayed. All of them predicated on the business. I have the business now, but it is not mine in truth until she approves it." Lysandre looked at him directly, “So, I would prefer to keep things subtle. Not secret, just quiet."

“What if she finds out?" Augustine said, suddenly concerned about his behavior.

“She surely will, perhaps she already has. As long as I am not flagrant about it, I doubt she will pull rank." Lysandre shrugged. “It’s a risk I have to take." 

"Why?" Augustine asked shamelessly.

Lysandre gave a rare, honest smile, "You are beautiful, mon parfait."

 

___

 

As the party started to dwindle Aliana wondered where the professor and Lysandre had wandered off to. She was trapped in polite conversation with Malva, and it was certainly interesting to talk about the strengths of fire type pokemon, but she was starting to worry that she had been ditched.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you at the elite four, cute girls like us are a rarity there." Malva said.

Aliana laughed. “I still need several more badges..." she said, distracted. She couldn’t have been ditched, she had made a great impression, and the professor was too nice for that. But...he did seem a little unusual.

“Well you know, I could…" Malva paused. Aliana realized she had been looking around, and not paying attention, she brought her gaze back to the woman in front of her. “They went off into the kitchen about an hour ago." Malva said in a flat tone.

Aliana laughed nervously. “Who?" She said.

“It’s cute that you think you’re hiding it." She smiled. “It definitely does not take this long to get ginger ale."

“Oh well, he--they must be talking to someone else." Aliana could feel herself blushing.

“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree." Malva smiled at her kindly. “Let me walk you home."

Aliana turned to look at the kitchen doors. “Ah, no, that’s ok. But thanks! I’m going to go see what the problem is." She excused herself.

As she left she heard Malva say under her breath, “strike two, good job Mal,"but Aliana wasn't sure what that meant. She pushed a calm over her mind. It was something she had learned while traveling with Cain, who was prone to outbursts. It came in handy when sneaking into places as well. She waited for a waiter to leave, and slipped into the kitchen as the door shut behind him. Luckily most of the waitstaff was busy gathering dishes or washing them, she made it behind a rack of trays without being seen. When she was younger she and Cain would sneak into all manner of buildings for a thrill. She wished he was here now. Rather, She wished the younger version of him was here now, when he was still fun. Unconsciously her hand touched a bruise on her wrist, the width of her new bracelet.

Her heart sank a little as she glanced around. The kitchen was fairly open, and she didn’t see any tall redheads looming around. Aliana sighed. She had been ditched. It wasn’t a big deal in all honesty. It was just a silly crush. He had seemed interested when they were talking, but looking back on it now, it was all academic talk, nothing personal. Aliana laughed quietly like she might if she had just been told a bad joke.

Ah well, she thought, and began to wander the kitchen, helping herself to bits of chocolate from the walk in freezer, or a cookie from a nearby tray. None of the waitstaff was on this end of the kitchen to notice, though she could still hear them talking.

Wait, no, the talking was coming from the wrong direction. Aliana peered around a stove and saw that the back exit was being propped open by a plank of wood. Someone was talking on the other side. A sudden cough made her jump. She could just see a figure in shadow beyond the window. It put out a cigarette in a puddle, and immediately lit up another, puffing away with mad intensity.

“You know, I think that we could rig it up within a week." He was scribbling something on a notebook. Aliana couldn't help but indulge her curiosity. She tiptoed up to the door and snuck a glance out. She could just barely see a diagram from where she stood.


	9. Discovering Mega-Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysandre hasn't forgotten about Reynard, and he has one last shot at saving him without incriminating himself. Aliana and Cain have reason to suspect that Lysandre is not as upstanding as he claims, and show up to stop his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a new ending to chapter 8 which serves to lead into this chapter. Please check that section before reading on, because it's plot relevant. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Also This chapter is Dark and violent, please be aware!

Cain’s talonflame, which he just called Talonflame, flapped quickly to slow their landing. Bits of dirt were tossed up around Aliana’s feet. Cain was scowling. “What is so important that I had to come all the way here?" he said, dismounting and calling the talonflame back to its ball.

“I found something a few nights ago" Aliana scratched the back of her head, looking down at the ground.

“So?" Cain said.

“Well, I--" A crack like lightning interrupted her and they both turned towards the North Boulevard where it had come from. Other people were looking as well, but for the moment nothing seemed amiss.

A cry of terror cracked the silence as a Gogoat ran down the street, followed quickly by a Doublade, slashing wildly. Two fletchling were shooting fire at one another and a bullelby had started dodging in and out of table legs and people’s legs with a mad chaos. Three trainers ran out of an alley, holding out their pokeballs and calling the return command, but they did not return. Aliana looked on as a pit formed in her stomach. The return command was not supposed to be optional.

 

___

 

Lysandre stared into his reflection, leaning forward over the bathroom sink. He had meant to look for gray hairs, wrinkles, blackheads, and any number of other faults that needed to be addressed quickly before they ruined him. Instead he just stared at himself; _Why did I have to say that? Out of all the things to say…_ Lysandre thought hopelessly. _It was just because I was thinking about him at the time._ But that couldn’t be true, because he had said it twice, once before he even had told Augustine about his past. _“We can change this world, mon parfait." The man had said to Lysandre “Stay with me in Hoenn."_

He left the bathroom buttoning his shirt, mind alight with plans for the day. _"You can relax, you know," The man had said to him, "The world won't end if you stop working."_ That was a nice thought, but in practice it was impossible. There was that constant itch, the ever present thought of wasted time. How could he look back on a day where nothing had been accomplished without feeling that slow pull towards his decline?

Augustine Sycamore was in his early thirties, and his eyes had only just started hinting at their age. It was almost a comfort. In his early twenties Lysandre had thought thirty would be the end of it. Now he could consider another few years after that. Then... would he fade out slowly, and end clinging to a hospital bed? An image of his father popped into his mind, frail and delusional. He willed the thought away. He wondered, _would Augustine age well?_ It was an easier thought to consider because the answer was probably yes. Lysandre smiled.

In the kitchen he could vaguely hear the news. With the television broadcasting its near constant vigil the sounds were on the cusp of fading into background noise. It was a good thing they had not done that quite yet. “Police have not been able to confirm if these attacks are related in any way to the Team Plasma incident of one month ago. Residents of Lumiose are encouraged to take only one pokemon with them at a time until the cause can be discovered." 

Lysandre flicked his gaze from his topmost shirt button to the television, brow knitted in understanding. He cursed to himself, _Can that man not wait even a minute?_ The tests were not scheduled to begin until Lysandre had arrived that morning. He twisted the smile off of his face. Xerosic was a man after his own heart. Surely he had been working all night with final adjustments and the thought of waiting was painful at best, but it wasn’t much of an excuse. Lysandre pulled on his jacket, checking the three luxury balls at his side. He needed to get to the labs immediately.

 

The streets of Lumiose should have been barren, considering the news, but it seemed that people loved to flock towards chaos. There were a few gaggles of people here and there, peering around and gossiping in low tones. Fortunately his cafe, his lovely little hideaway, was only a short walk from his apartment building. When he entered a waitress peeked out from the kitchens and registered that she wasn't needed, leaving the cafe gloriously empty. There was something satisfyingly normal about it all that Lysandre enjoyed. It was a public cafe, it counted as being social, and he still didn't have to talk with anyone he didn't want to. The prices were a little high, the staff was a little rude, the decor was jarring. Even so, it counted.

Celosia didn't truly understand its purpose. That was the problem with extroverts, they didn't understand that places can be more than a backdrop to contain pointless yapping. She had insisted on such a horrible grand opening, worried that the cafe would lose money. She wanted to parade it around like a high class establishment, but it wasn't for those people. It was only public because otherwise the fantasy would be pointless.

In the back of the cafe Lysandre stood before a cabinet and opened the hidden door behind it. That was the other thing about keeping it public; it wouldn't be such a big 'fuck you' to the world if the secret passage was in a private room.

The new laboratories were not quite finished, they had been a bit of a rush job all things told. There were still a few doors here and there that were purely for assisting in construction, such as the one from the kitchens to this hall, that Lysandre and Augustine had used. They would be sealed off soon enough. Xerosic’s old office was rarely occupied, so Lysandre did not bother trying the new one at all. Instead he proceeded to the primary lab, a tall walled room that Xerosic would prefer. As expected, he was there, bent over a box of wires and muttering. “Fucking box of shit." 

“Xerosic." Lysandre made his presence known with an angry growl. “You were told to wait to run the tests until I was present" 

Xerosic paused for a moment, looking towards an empty space of floor, “I was." he said, resuming his search. Xerosic was a portly man, but brilliant. He had a taste for the eccentric, with a new style every week or so. This week’s hairstyle was a regrettable red and blonde ponytail. It clashed against the white laboratory outfit and Lysandre  was sad to see that the red combat boots had made their appearance for the third week in a row.

“I got it!" came the excited squeak of a lab assistant across the room. Xerosic immediately dropped the box and headed to the table where the assistant stood, holding a spool of thin wire.

Lysandre followed a few paces behind, noting the acrid smell of burnt plastic as he approached. “I expect an explanation." he said.

“None to give." Xerosic said, taking the wire and kneeling next to the open panel of a curious machine. At one point it had been a weapon of Team Plasma’s. Currently it stood dissected, with bits and pieces loosely connected by cable. Xerosic shoved his hand inside the panel, peering in between his fingers as he worked. “Yell later, we have to do this now before anyone notices." 

“They’ve already noticed, it was on the news." Lysandre said, crossing his arms.

“Ah." Xerosic replied, but Lysandre doubted he had actually heard. He stuck his arm in further and ripped out some vital component with a faint crack. Ribbons of wire fell out as Xerosic pulled it away and moved to a desk with the wire and the circuit board. He pulled a hot soldering iron from its stand and brought it to the metal.

A clattering of footsteps burst into the room. Mable and Bryony had arrived in tandem, both looking a mess. Mable’s hair was tied back in a rare ponytail, a sure sign that she had been out the night before. She always said that ponytails only good for hangovers and hot weather. Bryony was wearing pajamas with little skiddoos on them and frantically cleaning her glasses on what would have been a nice blouse, if it was her size. They were both already frantically yelling at Xerosic.

“We had a plan!" Mable yelled.

“Did it work?" Bryony clapped her hands together and smiled.

“Are you crazy?" Mable continued.

“Did it work?" Bryony leaned over the instrument panel.

“Its all over the news you fucking idiot!" Mable threw up her hands in frustration.

" _Did it work Xero?_ " Bryony was practically bouncing with excitement.

“It worked." Xerosic said calmly, focused on his soldering. A smoky wisp curled around his glasses.

Bryony let out a high pitched squeak of joy before clapping one  hand over her mouth. Then in a swift strike she punched Xerosic in the shoulder.

“Goddamn it woman, I’m working." Xerosic snapped at her, turning away from the desk.

“You didn't call anyone, you asshole!"

"Would you all get off my case about it!" He yelled rubbing his shoulder.

"We needed to contain the story." Mable said sharply. "We needed to wait until Malva was in to report."

"Well I wasn’t trying to fuck your shit, so yall can back the fuck off." Xerosic muttered.

"Excuse me?" Lysandre said with an undercurrent of threat.

Xerosic's shoulders tensed and he looked at Lysandre over the top of his glasses with disdain, "It was a misfire. We fried the wiring. We've been set back, if you'll all let me get back to my work I can get this fixed and ready before anyone traces the source."

 

___

 

Lysandre waited in his office, standing over his desk staring at some meaningless paperwork, vaguely aware that Byrony and Mable were sitting nearby. A faint rage was building in the back of his mind. The whole point of this convoluted plan was to avoid attracting attention. That was ruined. He'd waited so long already, Reynard had waited. This was his last chance and it was failing right before his eyes.

Lysandre snapped his pen in half, tossed it aside, and pressed his finger to the intercom button of his phone. "Progress?" He said tensely.

The reply came from some lab assistant. She speaking loudly in an attempt to drown out the faint background yells of Xerosic.

"We're making progr--"

"--nterrupted _every 5 seconds_ by this fuc--"

The intercom cut out for a moment and then the reply resumed.

"Progress sir, it shouldn't be--"

"--bustin' _my_ fuckin a--"

Again it cut out and back in again.

"Not too much longer sir. Sorry sir. Very sorry."

"--He can come fix this shit _himself_ if--"

Lysandre rubbed his temple, he could feel the world pushing in on him from all sides. "Thank you, please keep me informed." Lysandre said, letting go of the intercom and pushing his palms into his eyes. "Someone tell me some good news."

"Well the new holocaster prototypes are working well." Mable said.

"Good, ok, that. You're back in the lab on those?" Lysandre said, pulling his palms away to see the pool of ink that was forming on his carpet. _Good god, that was new carpet._

"Yes, It's actually rather nice to use my degree for something." Mable said with a faint laugh. With Xerosic working on this, a gap in the electrical engineering department had opened up. Mable hadn’t worked in a scientific capacity for Lysandre before, but she did have a knack for it.

"I've found a lead on the historical memorial." Bryony offered.

"You did. Yes. Wonderful." Lysandre tried to force himself into a better mood.

"Its not for sure, but I think that the purchaser is staying in Geosenge."

"Geosenge. good." Lysandre said. Geosenge.

_Geosenge_.

_Where was Cleosia?_ Lysandre thought suddenly, pulling out his holocaster and dialing her with automatic practice. He barked into the camera, "Cela, Geosenge. You’ve seen the news? This is the cover we have been waiting for." Yes, this was good, he could work with this. The news would be wrapped up with this travesty, they wouldn't have time to report on some corporate acquisition of land. The coverage of his purchase of Cyllage City and Ambrette Town had been a PR nightmare, He and Celosia had agreed to be more low-key after that.

Lysandre’s holocaster was barely able to beep before he had played the reply. "Already on it, sir." Of course she was. Celosia was his perfect, perfect angel. He was almost feeling like this had gone correctly, as if he had set it up well enough that even with a failure he still came out on top. Afterall, his grip on Kalos was more important in the long term than anything else. He could withstand the reporting on this, all of the purchases were under a pseudonym. It was going to work out. Unfortunately two things happened next that crashed reality back down around his ears.

First, his gaze fell on his desk to an unopened letter bearing the familiar script of a woman he desperately did not want to hear from.

Second, a literal crash from the hallways.

Bryony and Mable were already up and heading out to investigate as he reached down for the letter. It read:

 

_Son,_

_Wonderful to hear of your recent frivolities in Lumiose. though I'm sure you know that time has a way of slipping past us when we are focused too much on work. You're not getting any younger! I’ve met a woman I think you will like..._

There was more to the letter, there invariably was, but Lysandre had already crumpled the paper in his fist. Everything always seemed to come to a head at once, didn't it? He threw the ball of paper across his desk in a blinding rage, and to his surprise instead of the unsatisfying crinkle of paper on paper he was rewarded with a deafening crack. It was well timed. Even though he knew it wasn’t his doing, he decided to take a little satisfaction in the noise.

His intercom sprung to life. “Sir, intruders. They’re in the lab!" 

_Of course there are._

 

“Aliana." Lysandre said, with a faint hint of surprise.

Lysandre stood at the entrance to the laboratory. At the back Xerosic continued to work obsessively jamming wires together in what may have passed for chaos from any other man. His assistant seemed torn between actually assisting and staring at the center of the lab. Bryony and Mable stood ahead of the workstation. Bryony held an injured liepard in her arms, and Mable was blocking the workstation with her Houndoom at her side. Facing off against the houndoom was a blastoise and a braxien. The braxien looked about ready to faint.

At the center of the room was a boy with short black hair. It took a moment to place him, but Lysandre remembered the boy from Augustine’s office, Cain. To his right was Aliana. She turned to see Lysandre, wearing a look of utter despair. These were professor Sycamore’s students. His eyes flashed around the room, but there was no one else present. Lysandre borrowed a curse from Augustine’s vocabulary and thought, _Arceus damn it all_ , he did not want Augustine to see this mess.

Mable took her opportunity, calling out the move Foul Play against the braxien, it struck well and let out a terrible squeak as it fell. Aliana’s gaze snapped back to her battle. “Nikki, Return!" she called.

Cain was quick to counter, commanding the blastoise to unleash a deluge of water on the houndoom. It seemed to be at the end of its rope. Lysandre strode forward. “Enough." He shouted, drawing attention from everyone in the room save for Xerosic.

“Are you the one attacking the city?" Cain shouted back. His blastoise turned in unison to face Lysandre. Aliana’s hand was poised over a pokeball, but she did not act.

“No one is attacking anything." Lysandre said.

“Bullshit. Ali told me what she saw. You’re part of Team Plasma." He shouted.

“Of all the ridiculous nonsense." Lysandre said angrily.  

“Those weapons are the same ones they use!" Cain accused. “Blastoise, Hydropump!" 

Lysandre was barely quick enough to call out Tarasque in defense from the deadly cannon of water. The blow struck Tarasque in full, sending droplets of water in a fine mist over the room.

“Cain," Aliana squeaked in shock.

“Fuck this kid." Xerosic yelled from his workstation, where he was hunched over his electronics, protecting them from the water.

Lysandre’s strategy was limited, there were only so many attacks that he could risk in this environment. Tarasque seemed to know just what to do, however, and lunged forward at the blastoise with an Iron Head attack. It struck the blastoise with a sickening crunch, but did not best it.

“Help me." Cain screeched angrily at Aliana before calling out a counter move.

Aliana was holding her pokeball, yet still hesitating. Her eyes flicked between Cain and Lysandre before calling out towards Lysandre, “tell me what you’re doing" The threw down the pokeball, releasing a charmeleon to the fray.

“I said _help"_ Cain yelled, “what’s a fire type going to accomplish?" His blastoise countered Tarasque again and again, but each time Tarasque was hit with a surge of water it directed it away from Xerosic’s station.

“Feint Attack" Mable called, sending her Houndoom back into the fight despite its injuries. The houndoom struck the charmeleon square in the chest, sending it flying back.

“No!, Char!" Aliana yelled. “Slash it!" The charmeleon followed through and struck the houndoom hard, sending it collapsing back to Mable. It fainted, and she called it back to its pokeball. Even as she did so the charmeleon erupted in a bright light, evolving before their eyes, transforming into a tall and impressive charizard.

"Yes, Ali, use the ring, we’ll have the advantage!" Cain shouted with glee.

“Stop this," Lysandre shouted. “Tarasque, halt." 

“It was a misfire!" Mable yelled.

Aliana did not call out an attack. Tarasque was looming in the large room, but his attacks had been stilled. He only defended from the ongoing water assault from the blastoise.

“Cain… maybe we should hear them out. I-I’m not sure what I saw." Aliana said, her gaze broke from Lysandre and flicked to the friend at her side.

“You got the damned ring, Aliana, _use it"_ Cain said, angrily. His stare faltered as well, turning on Aliana.

“I don’t think I should." She said, pulling back slightly. “I don’t think this is right." 

“You got that ring to fight! You didn’t seem troubled to defeat me for it, and now you want to protect this asshole? Are you just mocking me?" Cain yelled at her.

“I’m not trying--" 

“You’re too fucking WEAK for it." Cain lunged at the girl, grabbing her wrist. He was screeching with rage, grasping at the bracelet on Aliana’s arm. She was fighting back, trying to escape, but he was stronger. “Every chance you get you fuck me over," even though the ring was still on Aliana’s arm his fingers had curled around it, covering the inlaid gemstone.

“Cain, STOP." Aliana screamed.

A pink light erupted from the bracelet between the two. On the field both of their pokemon were reacting to that light. A single dark shell was encompassing the charizard and the blastoise together and for a moment they shone with beautiful radiance. The light faded but the shell did not crack away from the two creatures. The edges began to flake away, turning to ash as they fell.

“What did you do?" Aliana screeched, staring at the black mass on the field. Her charizard had not emerged, nor had the Blastoise. The shell was slowly peeling away, and there seemed to be something moving inside.

“You should have _let go_ ," Cain screamed at her. “We can’t share it. Korrina said!" 

Aliana had run forward, pushing her hands into the shell. It gave way easily against her touch and began to flake away more quickly. “CHAR!" She screamed. Lysandre stood, horrified, at what emerged. It wasn’t a pokemon anymore. Something had gone horribly wrong. Blood, bone and muscle throbbed, caked in the ashy shell, with no semblance of order. A metamorphosis that had failed. Parts of a charizard and parts of a blastoise were intermixed, leaving a pile of living meat. Aliana pulled away, blood and ash soaking her arms.

Lysandre rushed forward, no one deserved so see something as horrible as this. Especially not a student of Professor Sycamore. He pulled Aliana back and turned her to face him. To the right Cain screamed “LOOK WHAT YOU FUCKING DID." Lysandre covered her ears with his hands and pulled her close, the battle long forgotten. It didn’t matter what side of the fight she was on anymore, she didn’t deserve this. “Blastoise, return!" Cain screamed, but nothing happened. “RETURN!" He called again. It was useless, pokemon can not return to their ball once they are dead. In his arms Aliana shivered, crying, caking Lysandre in the blood and ash as she clung to him. “FUCKING WORTHLESS." Cain screamed, throwing a pokeball to the ground and shattering it.

Air whistled around the edges of a computer monitor before it connected with the back of the boy's skull. He fell to the ground in a graceless heap. Bryony stood over him, panting. The monitor had cracked in half.

 

___

 

Lysandre could see Augustine's front door from here. It wasn't far at all. He could go there, and Augustine would be happy to see him. They would go inside and have wine, and he could see how the professor lived. Had he really never been there? He probably had pictures of family, students, friends. He would have notes and papers everywhere. He would have dishes in the sink. god knows it's probably a mess. It would remind him of Hoenn but he wouldn't say that. He wouldn't tell Augustine anything about today. He wouldn't say how he had utterly ruined one of the professor's students, and how... what was even happening with the other one? Bryony and Mable had taken them off somewhere. Lysandre just stayed in the lab, silent, watching Xerosic finish his work. Was Cain dead? Was Aliana still a shivering mess? Lysandre supposed, if he wasn't telling Augustine anyway, he didn't really need to know. And if he wasn't telling Professor Sycamore anyway, he didn't need to bother him so late at night. And if he wasn't bothering the professor anyway, there was no need to be here.

A Murkrow called out a single croaking note. Lysandre looked around to pinpoint the distraction and revel in it for a while. A reason to leave. It was perched on a lamp post down the road, overlooking the canal. Lysandre’s feet began to take him there before he could grant permission. Something inside him wanted to stay put. Maybe Augustine would come out and find him there, and take him in, and pry the truth out of him. Then Lysandre would say something like _“There’s something broken in me"  and call him by the wrong pet name again. He didn’t even feel guilt, did he? Just loss, almost resentment, as though it was the world’s fault that he had failed. Augustine would say something like _“You’re going to be fine"  and kiss his neck, because they would be standing and Augustine couldn’t reach. Lysandre didn’t like to sit when he was stressed, it felt too much like resting. That was probably why he was walking towards the canal.__

The water was a dark inky black flecked with sparks of red and blue. In some alley a there must be a police car, but Lysandre couldn't see it from here. Lysandre stared into the water from the edge of the bridge, shivering. The air had turned cool, fall was coming upon the city. Inside his jacket Mable had stuffed a fur liner, and it stuck out now about the collar, but it was still terribly cold.

"I am sorry, Reynard." He said to the water.

The murkrow called out from the far edge of the canal, a single lonesome croak. Lysandre looked up from the dark waters to the pokemon. The spectre of death. If Reynard was dead, the machinery would not have worked, and after all that, the machinery had not worked. Pokemon had been released and confused all over the city, but Reynard had not surfaced to meet any of his people who were waiting by the canal.

There were other explanations, but they were far more horrible than mere death. The ball had cracked and his signal was already being slowly degraded, shorted out, in a long agonizing burn. Worse, The ball had been washed away, to some corner of Kalos, and Reynard was alone in the wilds. Worse yet, the machinery was miscalibrated and Reynard was still trapped, knowing he had been tossed aside and abandoned for, what was it now? Two months? Death would be sweeter. In death you can not feel loss. _He must be dead._ Lysandre could not tolerate any other possibility.

The murkrow fluttered once, cautious, tilting its head. It took wing, and landed just a little closer to Lysandre. Winter would be here soon, and the water would freeze, and by spring the bodies would be too degraded to pin anything on him, not even his pyroar’s bite pattern would be discernable. Reynard wouldn’t last that long.

But he was already dead, so that was a moot point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Everything got dark as fuck!
> 
>  
> 
> [ Unspeakable Horrors ](https://24.media.tumblr.com/20ffefb88d25d483fd8959eaf1bbb349/tumblr_mxs2xamkN51t0f5y4o1_500.png)


	10. Take Care of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysandre vows to take care of the mess resulting from the failed mega evolution and Cain's death. He knows he'll need to put himself in a position of command to save his own skin. Though Professor Sycamore is in the dark on what exactly happened he chooses to take Lysandre's offer and run farther away.

Lysandre only got a little farther into his mother’s letter this time before he found it balled up in one fist again. The paper was getting flimsy from all of its torment. He wasn’t supposed to be reading it right now anyway, he was supposed to be...

A ream of paper slammed onto his desk. Ah yes. _I should pay attention_. Lysandre looked from the stack of paper to its author, Xerosic, who gave him a sardonic smile. “What is all this? ELysandre said, hoping the answer hadn’t already been given when he wasn’t listening.

Xerosic raised a finger for each item, “first, a report on the failures and successes of our project. I don’t recommend that we pursue it any further. Second the full report that Aliana expects to give to her professor on ‘Mega-Evolution E Elt;/p>

“Full report? ELysandre interrupted skeptically.

“The full report _that she expects to hand in_. EXerosic said with emphasis before continuing. “Third, the actual _full_ report that Aliana wrote on Mega-Evolution. Fourth, a request for hire. Elt;/p >

Lysandre looked up from the stack of paper, “She can not possibly want that. Elt;/p>

“My request on her behalf, but you would be surprised at what she wants. EXerosic said, fishing something from the inside of his jacket.

“You want to hire her? ELysandre asked.

“She’s very brilliant. EXerosic replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Not in my office, Xero. ELysandre said. Xerosic put one cigarette in his mouth, heedless of the warning, and offered another to Lysandre with a smirk. Lysandre looked at it. “I quit smoking last month. EEven as he said it he was reaching out to accept the offer.

“Everyone’s quit. I have no one to smoke with anymore. EXerosic complained, holding the lighter up with a flick.

“Not in my office. ELysandre said firmly, putting his own cigarette to his lips.

  


So Lysandre found himself in some unused office on a lower floor of the building sitting in an old broken desk chair and ruining his suit with smoke. Xerosic sat opposite him on the desk flicking ash out of a cracked window. Lysandre had brought the reports and was leafing through what Aliana expected to give to Augustine. It was terribly written, unclear at every turn. The true report was at least 10 pages longer and Lysandre suspected it was much more indicative of her ability.

“Did you help her pare this down? ELysandre asked.

“Sure did. I cut anything relating to the location, and anything relating to that kid. Elt;/p>

“That kid was a rather integral part of the problem, was he not? ELysandre asked.

“Very much so. It’s a shit report. EXerosic said.

Lysandre frowned. “Augustine EHe paused at the accidental familiar name before continuing, “The professor isn’t a moron, he’ll see the drop in quality. He’ll definitely question her about it. Elt;/p>

Xerosic shrugged. “Skip to the end. Elt;/p>

Lysandre did, and as he read he took a few short humorous puffs of his cigarette. _That took care of that_ , he supposed. “She’s quitting the league? Elt;/p>

“Sure is, EXerosic said.

Lysandre dropped the report on the desk next to Xerosic and flicked the tip of his cigarette outside. _Augustine will be heartbroken_ , he thought. _He won’t even have a good explanation. He won’t even have the decency of a similar resignation from the boy._

“You should do down there and talk to them yourself EXerosic interrupted Lysandre’s thoughts. Lysandre broke his glare from the city outside the window and fixed it on Xerosic. “I don’t know what to do about any of it anymore. EXerosic took a long drag of smoke. “Maybe your impassiveness will rub off on them. Elt;/p>

Lysandre scowled and turned back to face the window. “If yours didn't work, I doubt mine will rub off. Elt;/p>

“You fuckin Eserious? EXerosic said with a laugh. “That shit was a _horrorshow_. I’m right there with them, can’t so much as look at those two without tearing up. I just have shit to do, so, you know. EXerosic shrugged.

Lysandre snuck a suprised glance at Xerosic and then directed his gaze to his own shoes. That internal curiosity had reared its monstrous head again, _there’s something wrong,_ but Lysandre stamped the feeling out along with the end of his cigarette on the windowsill. Before he could even excuse himself and 'quit' again, Xerosic was holding out a fresh cigarette. Lysandre hesitated a moment, but ultimately fell to weakness. As he flicked the lighter to life again he asked "How do you think I can fix it?"

Xerosic gave it a moment's consideration, "I think 'fixing it' too quickly probably isn't going to help. People need to stay broken for a while, sometimes. Just talk to them about it all."

"That sounds like my own personal hell." Lysandre said, leaning on one hand.

Xerosic scoffed. "You talk all the time."

"I talk about work. I doubt it would be helpful."

"Eh," Xerosic shrugged. "It's normal. They'd probably like something normal to take their mind off of it."

"No." Lysandre said, putting that idea to rest. "It should be something, nice, or ... something" Lysandre floundered. "What would be a nice thing to say to the girls?"

Xerosic laughed "Who knows? Women are crazy."

Lysandre shot him a mild glare. "I did not mean to make it a gender issue."

Xerosic scoffed. "It's always a gender issue. It just doesn't seem that way to rich guys who have no lady troubles."

Lysandre stared at Xerosic, eyes half lidded in sarcasm.

"Yea, right, don’t give me that. What problems could you have, too many of them fighting over your money?" Xerosic said.

"Not an issue, ELysandre laughed to himself, overcome with a daring urge. If Xerosic wasn't trustworthy then he was already in trouble, honesty or no. It would be nice to test the waters, and it would be nice to get some brutal feedback on the issue, and it would be nice to just say it _once_. Lysandre took a long drag on his cigarette. “I'm gay." he said, instantly regretting it. It sounded absolutely vulgar, something a teenager says right before he gets smacked.

Xerosic paused, wrinkling his brow. "huh." He tilted his head to one side. Lysandre tensed at the appraising look. _What am I thinking? It was just an assumption on his part, I don’t need to correct every. little. thing._ "You know, that makes sense," Xerosic said finally.

One of many knots untied itself in Lysandre's stomach.

"Wait, shit." Xerosic exclaimed.

 _There it is_ , Lysandre thought, re-tying the knot but holding his neutral expression firm.

Xerosic flicked the end of his cigarette out the window. "I should have offered you a fag instead," he said, with a wide and daring grin.

Lysandre made a noise that was part scoff, part growl, and part chuckle. It was the kind of undignified guttural sound that Augustine might make right before blushing and covering his mouth. "Don't say _fag_." Lysandre corrected.

"How about don’t make this about _you_ , eh?" Xerosic chastised him, "We're talking about their bullshit, not _yours_."

Lysandre nodded absently, failing at eye contact and finishing off his last cigarette. “I’m going to go take care of it. Elt;/p>

  


___

  


Bryony had set herself up in a small office to the left of Xerosic's unused one at the new labs. It was filled with old books neatly arranged on simple black shelving. There was no art covering the grey walls, though some had been placed by the door to put up as time permitted. Her simple desk held yellowing maps and diagrams and a single sleeping liepard named Lionel. The space would have been perfect for a stuffy cartographer with grey hair. Instead Bryony sat, a young woman with a penchant for lime green, staring at a blank space just above the door frame. He caught the scene briefly through the door, but Lysandre’s entrance was enough to snap her back to reality.

"Sir." She said, working to focus her eyes.

Lysandre placed a cup by her hand, a takeout coffee from his own Cafe. Bryony looked at the cup, puzzling out its purpose for a moment before lifting it to her mouth. She sipped it carefully, and seemed surprised to find coffee inside.

"How are you, Bre?" Lysandre asked as she drank.

"Yes" She replied, considering the coffee.

What followed wasn't entirely unlike the worst awkward silence Lysandre could imagine. Lysandre sat himself in a folding chair and pretended he was actually in his office projecting a holocaster image down to the room. That's what he should have done, fuck. _Fuck_. Lysandre's mouth thinned. _Speak_.

After what must have been a minute Lysandre spoke. "I’ve been thinking about your work, Bre." _Nope, you already fucked it up. Good fucking job._

"Did we get Geosenge?" Bryony said, holding the cup in front of her mouth.

"We did, Celosia finished up the contracts yesterday evening." Lysandre replied, feeling terrible about his inability to console her, as well as delighted that he wasn’t being forced to.

Bryony rose up a little higher in her seat, “I want to go. EShe said, her eyes finding their focus on Lysandre. “I want to go there. I want to stay there. Elt;/p>

Lysandre nodded once. “Then I will arrange that. Elt;/p>

Bryony stood, rousing the Liepard from its nap. “Right now. Elt;/p>

“Then you will. ELysandre said, standing as well. 

The Liepard leapt from the desk as Bryony rounded it, heading for the door. As she passed him Lysandre grabbed her arm. “Bre. EHe looked down at her, unsure if his face was gentle or severe. “I’m going to take care of everything. Elt;/p>

She nodded once, hesitating and looking him almost in the eye, focused somewhere around his left ear. She hugged him and then she ran. Lysandre would have a car ready for her within the hour.

  


___

  


Aliana sat before an open and abused laptop, perched on the edge of her seat. She was only there because traditionally one sits while one types. It was ill suited to such a mad expulsion of thought. Lysandre had seen this behaviour before, in Augustine, often before sunrise. He would get out of the bed that they occasionally shared and purge his mind, like the thoughts were poisonous. He set a coffee by her side just as he did for Augustine on those mornings. She took it and drank, offering no thanks.

Once, while he watched Augustine work, he had been overcome with a possessive need to bring that focus upon himself. He had pulled up a chair beside the madman and laid a kiss on his ear, testing to see if the spell could be broken. It was the only time Augustine ever told him 'no' outright. After that, Lysandre did the same every time he found Augustine working. He loved that it never once succeeded.

He didn't try it on Aliana. Instead he sat at the side of the desk and waited. Aliana had remained in the labs ever since Lysandre had hidden her away so he could deal with the... mess. She hadn't tried to leave yet, so it wasn't clear if she was being held there or not. Eventually she broke her own focus, shutting the laptop and turning to Lysandre. “You didn’t mean for those things to happen. EIt was a statement of fact, a retroactive order.

“I did not. ELysandre said truthfully.

“Neither did I. EShe admitted.

For a moment they stared at one another. Lysandre’s face was an unashamed mask, admitting no fault. He knew from her perspective they had merely had an experiment go awry, made worse by interference. Aliana’s face had been buried in the shirt under his jacket, searching for strength even as Bryony took the boy down. He needed to continue to be that figure of power, something that a little lost girl could cling to rather than blame. Aliana struggled, her own glare tested him for weakness, for fault. There was none. She broke, letting her face fall into her hands, the command in her voice gone, “It’s all my fault. Elt;/p>

“No. ELysandre said, leaning forward in his chair. “I read your report. You had been warned against dual activation of the stone. Elt;/p>

“Then I should have given it to him. EShe said, regret and anger hinting through her voice. She pulled the bracelet from her bruised wrist, and tossed it aside. With his free hand Lysandre caught it.

“It was yours to have. He was out of line ELysandre said. He held out the bracelet for her. She shoved it aside so he took her hand in his own pulling it towards the desk and holding firm.

“I don’t even want it anymore. EAliana said. “I don’t know what to do. EShe admitted. “We were friends when we were younger. I should never have called him. I didn’t know what else to do. He always knew what to do. Elt;/p>

“No, he took everything too far. ELysandre said, seeing the moves he needed to make unfold before him, clean and ready.

“Is he... EAliana paused and cleared her throat.

“You will file a missing persons report. ELysandre said, adopting Aliana’s former tone of order. This was familiar, this was easy.

“Will I? EShe said, face blank.

“You will. Elt;/p>

“And then what? EShe asked.

Lysandre gripped the bracelet tightly, a thrill of power rushing up his chest. He stood up, smoothing out his jacket and slipping the gem into his pocket. Knowing full well the strings he was pulling he leaned over and kissed Aliana on the crown of her head. “I am going to take care of everything, Ehe promised.

  


___

  


Professor Sycamore had a picture of Aliana and Cain saved on his holocaster. He'd taken it right after they'd chosen their starters. Aliana with her fennekin and Cain with his chespin. Cain had chosen first, and argued with Aliana when she picked the advantageous pokemon. _"I just like him, It's not about winning," Aliana had said. "Of course it's about winning." Cain had replied._

He looked at that picture a lot.

When Aliana got the charmander egg Cain had scoffed at her poorly balanced team. He'd turned down the bulbasaur egg in favor of squirtle. The professor had a picture of that too. Cain with his new egg, looking smug. He had seen more pokemon that Aliana had at that point.

The second one had been copied for the police, and he saw it every so often around town. He'd never noticed all the places where missing persons notices went up before. Every time he saw it on the street Professor Sycamore found himself liking the first photo better.

There was warmth at his back and a hand ran the length of his bare arm, reaching towards the holocaster and turning it off. "Don't obsess." Lysandre said quietly, pressing his face into the back of Augustine's neck and letting out a slow, deliberate exhale. He was probably right. Cain was only missing, Augustine shouldn't treat it like a death until there was proof.

"I just can't focus on anything else." Augustine admitted, turning and falling back into bed, wrapping himself in blankets and strong arms. “She quit the league today. Something happened, and she won’t tell me what. I don’t think I even want to know. Elt;/p>

"It is not your fault." Lysandre muttered quietly.

"No, I know that." Augustine said, "I send kids on their way to the league every year, I'm not responsible for them beyond their academia. But I still feel terrible."

"Hm," Lysandre said. Sometimes Lysandre got lost in thought, and would make short breathy noises rather than conversation. Today Augustine didn't feel like holding up the conversation alone, so they fell silent. Augustine thought about walking back to the office and frowned, he wanted to call out for the afternoon but how could he? He thought about how warm Lysandre was right then, and how nice it would be to go outside and be held just like this against the fall cold. He might be able to make it back to the office that way, maybe the memory of the thought would suffice.

"Come on a trip with me," Lysandre said, emerging from his own mind. "to Geosenge."

"Hm" Augustine mimicked Lysandre, lost in his own thoughts. The sudden idea was incredibly tempting. Getting away from the city would be lovely. He could leave all of his dread behind and maybe it would be gone when he came back.

They could rent a cabin and go hiking, looking for pokemon. It was fall, Lysandre’s orange flame of hair would match the trees. Augustine would forget his age and try to climb one. Lysandre would look at Augustine with frustration and a hidden smile and pick sticks out of his hair. They would have a campfire. They could lay in a warm bed with the cabin’s heat off. They could...

No, that's not how it would be. Theirs was a secret affair. It was exciting at night, when they would walk to Lysandre’s apartment like criminals, or whenever they were alone in public pawing at one another. It was enough for him to cling on. Or maybe it was some stubborn want to shatter everything and finally get caught that kept him here. At every other time, when he wanted to see a movie, or when he wanted to introduce Lys to his friends, or when he needed an excuse to stop hitting on a waiter, it was a frustrating mess of lies and distance. Camping would be no different. They could go hiking and not hold hands, they could look at the trees and not admire one another, they could have a fire but sit at different ends of it.

The warm bed would probably still be fine though.

"I’ve just bought it. ELysandre said far too casually, “I’ll be there for work, and was planning on having it be empty, since it’s mostly just vacation homes. We stopped renting for the fall. It will be nice to not have to sneak about. Elt;/p>

_What?_ “What? EAugustine said. “What do you mean, you bought it. You rented it out entirely? Elt;/p >

“No, I own the land. ELysandre said.

“You own which land? You have a cabin there? EAugustine said.

“I have all of the cabins there. ELysandre chuckled.

Augustine sat up to face Lysandre, horror splashed across his face. “You own a _town_. Elt;/p >

“I own several towns. Elt;/p>

“You own _several_ towns? Elt;/p >

“Yes. Elt;/p>

Silence.

 Elt;em>Why do you own several towns? EAugustine yelled.

Lysandre gave him a satisfied smirk, pulling him back to the bed by tugging on his arm. "Business." he said, as though that were the end of it.

"That's not an answer." Augustine replied, faking a pout and pulling closer.

"To impress you." Lysandre said, a half smile drawing across his lips.

Augustine couldn’t help but feel his stomach jump. "That's not true." he said regretfully.

"I'm going to retire and become a forest ranger." Lysandre said, delivering it with a deadpan stare.

Augustine snorted an undignified laugh into Lysandre's chest and then blushed at the slip-up. "Come on, please tell me. I'll only go with you if you tell me." Augustine threatened.

Lysandre gripped Augustine tightly, burying his face in top of Augustine's head, careless of his messy black hair. "Come with me anyway, mon parfait," he said quietly. Augustine's fingers tightened against Lysandre's back. He still did not have a defence for that, and Lysandre knew it. Whenever he said it he sounded so genuine. None of his icy distance was there, he dropped the guarded monotones. He spoke it and it flooded Augustine with heat.

"Ok" Augustine whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Distracting Augustine while he works](https://31.media.tumblr.com/f025f7651b05617452849fd247989b0a/tumblr_my32fpGDc61t0f5y4o1_500.png)


	11. Power Envy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustine Demands a short detour on their trip to Geosenge, but ultimately regrets the request. He is reminded if his own weaknesses and searches for a way to overcome that feeling. Lysandre, in turn, is struggling with his own feelings of anger and fear behind the scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for mature audiences (aka, porno at the end).
> 
> I am uploading this while I am a little ill, so I may come back and make edits in the next few days when I am not feeling crappy.

A piercing squawk pierced Professor Sycamore’s ear.

In his youth, Augustine Sycamore never once doubted that his life would be devoted to pokemon research. He could always be found playing in the grass and befriending any wild creature nearby. His friends had joined their regional pokemon league and left home to travel and grow, but Augustine didn’t have a knack for battle, or even capturing pokemon. He fed hundreds of wild pokemon, and even treated injuries when needed. If food and affection was all it took to become a trainer then Augustine would have been the champion long ago. Unfortunately pokemon do not submit to ownership so easily.

His first pokemon, a tiny pidgey named Tufa, effectively ran away. It wasn’t a matter of love, Augustine was the one to feed her, groom her and care for her. The problem arose in their first practice battle. Augustine had hesitated and his little sister stepped up, shouting the right commands to protect Tufa from the wild Spearow. The pidgey had really been his sister’s ever since, regardless of who fed her. He remembered crying quietly as his father hugged him and told him to try and understand Tufa’s point of view.

The hard part to accept was that he really did understand. He wanted to not have the answer, because having the answer and still failing too painful to accept. Alas, he was too--

“CAW”

He was too smart for his own good. At that point he had already read every book on pokemon he could find. He was reading well beyond his age, pouring over advanced biology and genetic theories.

Pokemon are not creatures like humans are. Pokemon are in a constant state of metamorphosis. They grow in ways the humans can vaguely measure and evolve in spectacular displays. But the underside of this is an instability that can be dangerous to their health. A pokemon that is not trained has significant health risks and a greatly reduced life span. As pokemon battle they grow, slowly stabilizing their tenuous biological lattice. This is why wild pokemon battle, and why only some choose to submit to a trainer who they think can help them. That was why his pidgey had chosen his sister. Augustine didn’t have a trainer’s instinct and couldn’t help Tufa grow.

“CAW”

So it was the life of research for him, finding ways to improve the bond between trainer and pokemon. Evolution was always the key to pokemon health, which is why it was his focus of study. Augustine had his notes open in front of him and several research papers on his laptop. The professor was attempting to connect the loose ends in his studies. He loved his work, just as he loved pokemon.

“CAW”

It was warm for fall, and the air was crisp around him. It was ideal weather for daydreaming, and the professor was in the perfect mood for tallying up and organizing his life. Even little black crows that squawked for attention, loudly, directly in his ear, while he was trying very hard to be lost in thought on the patio of a cafe, could not shake him.

“CAW”

Even the loudest of murkrow could not possibly, ever, get under the professor’s skin, because they were beautiful and facina--

“CAW”

The professor shut his laptop and fished around in his pocket for some sunflower seeds. Many pokemon got aggressively vocal when hungry. He poured a few into his palm and extended it to the murkrow at his side.

Its beak shot out at the seeds like a spear and tore a hole in the professor’s palm.

“Ankou, _No_ ” Lysandre scolded from his seat. The murkrow fluttered across the table to Lysandre and crooned slightly.

Professor Sycamore forced a chuckle, “It’s just excited over the sunflower seeds,” taking a napkin from the table to wipe away the blood and remaining seeds. _That little basta-- bird didn’t even eat them_ , he realized. “Did you really have to name it Ankou?” Augustine said, tossing aside the napkin and reopening his laptop. There was still time for him to get re-lost in thought and sip his tea if he really tried.

“Doesn’t she look like an Ankou?” Lysandre said, stroking the bird’s feathers affectionately.

“Awfully morbid.” Augustine muttered, judging by the silence he supposed Lysandre hadn’t heard. In any case he had work to do.

Aliana had left him with a puzzle of a final paper. He felt a twang of regret play across his heart, something in the world had gone crossways, and Augustine Sycamore could only feel the ripples. Aliana never, ever, wrote a paper this poorly. Augustine Sycamore never, ever, had a student quit the league under his tutelage.

“I don’t think this tangential excursion will help.” Lysandre said speaking to Augustine in the same crooning tone as he had just been speaking to his demon bird.

“I don’t want to fight about it again.”

“It is a waste of time, Celosia is expecting us at Geo-”

"I’m sorry,” Augustine said with a sarcastic flourish, “I thought you were the boss.”

“This is a _business_ trip, not a field trip" Lysandre said, as though it settled the matter.

"I'm part of your business?"

"You could be if you wanted."

Augustine scoffed, "Don't change the subject." Lysandre tilted his head downward, adopting that powerfully manipulative look that he was so fond of. Sensing the oncoming danger, Augustine interrupted, “This is part of _my_ business.” It succeeded in halting Lysandre’s reply leaving him glaring at Augustine. Augustine glared back.

Lysandre seemed to consider this for a moment and the conversation circled back around once again, “I do not think it is a good idea.”

“CAW”

Augustine was quite done at this point. There were times when he loved Lysandre’s stubborn attitude, it made him the perfect sounding board for theoretical discussions because he would not let go until and idea was wholly complete. At times like this it was less desirable. “Fine, leave, and I’ll take a taxi to Geosenge when I am done.”

Lysandre’s eyes narrowed in a very surprising and very satisfying manner. The  expression was a rare and clouded one. Fortunately Augustine was a keen observer of human expressions. It said; ‘Would he really? Can he do that? I won’t let him.’

It was perhaps fortunate that Korrina took that moment to arrive and cut short their little spat. She glided up to them smoothly on her ever-present skates with an out-of-breath ‘hello.’

The professor shut his laptop once again, and put on his best ‘I am totally fine and have not been dreading this’ expression. “Korrina, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He said, holding out a hand in welcome.

“Hello professor. Please excuse my gym clothing, I came here right from training.” She was wearing a red and grey tank top with black yoga pants tucked into her rollerblades. They grasped each other’s hands and kissed once on the cheek. Lysandre did not stand in greeting, but merely jerked one corner of his mouth upward when acknowledged and continued to pet Ankou.

Korrina did not care one iota about Lysandre’s reaction, or at least didn’t show it. She fell into a chair at the wireframe table without bothering to remove her helmet or skates and beckoned the professor to join her. “Professor. I don’t have much time, can we make this brief?”

“Certainly, Korrina.” The professor said, apprehension twisting at his gut. Brevity put him at a disadvantage. “I’d like to talk to you about Aliana and Cain.”

She fiddled with a blonde lock of hair, far away in thought. “I understand from your message that Aliana has quit the league?"

The professor nodded sadly, "I know you were working with her and Cain on mega-evolution. Korrina, I have to say, I appreciate that you gave my students a chance to bridge the divide between our research efforts. Combining your efforts on the ring with our progress on the gemstones is surely--"

“Professor, let me stop you there.” She said with a dismissive wave, letting the over curled blonde lock fall back to place. “I am here to collect the ring. I am not interested, as I have repeatedly said, in sharing my research.”

“Korrina, please. I just need to fill in some blanks.”

“Just the ring.” Korrina said, holding out her hand.

The professor tensed, transforming his forced smile into a thin line. “Aliana has not returned the mega ring.”

"Hasn't she?" Korrina said in mock surprise.

"I am taking it as a suggestion that she is not truly quitting the league, just taking a hiatus." The professor said, hoping to head Korrina off at the pass before she could jump to any wild conclusions. "But I only have part of the story, I am desperate for more information. Anything. I know she and Cain were speaking with you before this all happened. If you three were experimenting with evolutionary methods. If something went wrong..." The professor trailed off.

"I gave Aliana the ring for her own research and _only_ because _she_ proved her strength." Korrina said, picking up the conversation quickly. "Strength alone. Not because of her status as your student.”

“I understand that Korrina, I know we have disagreed in the past about students of the starter program but…”

Korrina didn’t seem to care to listen to the professor at all, “To be perfectly frank, that put her at a disadvantage in my book. Not every child in the world can be coddled for the Starter Program, as I hope you are aware. I am not particularly interested in helping you widen the rift between regular people and your hand-chosen trainers. The league is already dominated by them, all of the Elite four come from backgrounds of prosperity. Some people in this world need to focus on primary school and practical education, they barely have the time and energy to raise their pokemon, even if they do have the skill.”

“If a student has neither the time or the energy to raise their pokemon, I do not think they have the time to be league level trainers.” Augustine said. “But that’s besides the point,” he cursed to himself, hoping to get back on topic.

“ _You_ are telling _me_ who is fit to be a trainer?” Korrina laughed. “Alright professor, show me your gym badges then.”

Augustine felt his shoulders tense despite his best efforts. “I admit I am not great trainer, but I make it my life’s work to see to the well being of pokemon in other ways.”

“You see to the well being of _some_ pokemon.” Korrina said, leaning back in her chair. “Just like you give _some_ children an opportunity for greatness. Then your students come up and roll right through my league as easy as anything, completely unaware at how many trainers struggle with the same challenge simply due to a practical need to spend their time in school or at work.”

“You are being unfair. Yes, some students have social advantages. I can’t control that. I don’t have the resources to give every person in Kalos a scholarship, a starter and a dex. What I can do is give them to some, and try my best to improve what we know about the world.” The professor shot back, feeling his face grow hot. “But that is not why I am here." He raised a hand to his forehead, ashamed that he had allowed Korrina to side track him, yet again. "I am here out of concern for my students. Cain is _missing for Arceus' sake_."

"So is my ring." Korrina said.

"CAW" Ankou's sudden cry made the professor jump. He had forgotten Lysandre and that murkrow were even present. He was only slightly eased to see that Korrina had also been surprised. Lysandre took the moment of shock to interject himself into the conversation.

"If you had given this ring to Aliana, is it not hers to keep or give away now?" He said simply. "I don't see why you have a claim to it anymore."

“Its not about the _fucking ring_ ,” Augustine shouted, “I am sick of this posturing over our research. You can have all of my research for fucking Arceus’ sake,” Augustine pulled a thumb drive from the laptop, tossing it at Korrina. “I have student missing, and a student shunning herself away from the world and I have. No. Idea. Why.”

  
  


___

  
  


“Augustine, I am not following you into this grass.” Lysandre called from the roadside. The professor did not respond, stomping forward further into the wilds. “Augustine. Do you know how much I paid for these shoes? I am not following you into this mud!” Lysandre shouted, a little quieter now from the distance between them.

_If I we had been working together from the start this would not have happened. I know it_ , Augustine thought, angrily. He hadn’t been strong enough to best her in battle and earn the ring for himself all those years back, so Korrina closed off that option. They had worked separately on their research, surely this foolish rivalry was a hindrance to them both. She was so obsessed with strength of will. She had no time for weak professors.

Augustine was holding firm to one of his pokeballs. He didn’t have much in the way of a plan, really. Did he hope to train for an hour and suddenly be able to best her for another chance? She would still consider him a symbol of classism regardless of it all. Maybe battling her would even make it worse. It was completely moronic, a false rift that she had imagined just because she had never qualified for the starter program. She was proof alone that anyone can join the league and do well, there was no need to hold the grudge.

A rustling of grass at his back sent a wave of terror through his fingertips and the professor almost dropped his pokeball. He spun around, ashamed and ready to battle whatever wild pokemon this was. He could do this. He held Topaz’s pokeball at the ready and he pushed through the grass to see what he would face.

He was greeted with a sharp acrid exhalation from a massive Tauros. Its eyes gleaming, challenging him. Augustine knew that Topaz could manage this fight. He tossed his pokeball out, summoning the squirtle in a flash of red.

The grass parted and another Tauros appeared, also huffing in challenge. Professor Sycamore’s heart began to sink as he saw yet another Tauros, and another, and another.

Hoard behavior was unique to Kalos, they were a great way for low leveled wild pokemon to gain experience. At any other time this would have been a treat to research. In fact, even with the looming threat Augustine couldn’t help but appreciate how the group formed in a staggered battle line, free of a leader.

Topaz looked over his shoulder to the professor, distracted in his observations and chirped a sharp note of panic. Shaking himself from his thoughts the professor found his mind clouded with worry. “Shit. ah, tackle” He said.

The Tauros, unfortunately, had not hesitated. Each in turn rushed forward, deadly horns fixed on the tiny squirtle. They struck well, sending a battered squirtle flying back into the dirt. The blood drained from Augustine’s face. Why was he doing this? This was insanely stupid. He had no practice, he had no ability. He was supposed to be buried in a notebook, watching these things from a distance.

“Shit, Fuck, Shit.” He shouted, holding out Topaz’s ball to draw him back to safety. Carnelian couldn’t possibly take these Tauros on when Topaz had failed, and Prassi would be doomed. Augustine Sycamore turned on his heel and began to bolt through the grasses in escape. At his back a terrifying crashing let him know that the Tauros were in pursuit.

“Augustine, what the hell is going on in there?” Lysandre’s voice called out to him, but Augustine couldn't tell from where. He ran on, ignoring the thin branches and sharp leaves that smacked into his arms and face.

His lungs were starting to burn along with the corners of his eyes. He began to slow down, but still there was a rustling at his back. He spun around in a controlled stumble to see if the Tauros were still at his heels.

Lysandre pushed the grasses and underbrush aside, emerging next to Augustine in the dirt. “For god’s sake, Augustine, there you are. This is dangerous. Neither of us have pokemon rated for this area.”

Augustine’s head fell in relief, panting and he braces himself against his own knees. His eyes landed on their shoes. Caked in mud and twigs. He felt very small. Lysandre took a step closer and pulled him up into a strong hug. “Sorry…” Augustine muttered.

“Listen to me.” Lysandre said firmly with a touch of frustration, “We are going to Geosenge and we are going to get your mind off of this. Everything is prepared. You will love it there. Please, just.. just” He was searching for words.

“Try not to worry?” Augustine suggested.

“Just put it off for a week. For me.” Lysandre said. “Everything can fall apart later, I refuse to let it happen right now. I am not ready yet.”

Augustine let out a sharp breath of laughter, drawing into the embrace. He hadn’t meant to worry Lysandre so much, though he couldn’t lie, he liked the feeling. Lysandre had been wildly fluctuating between distance and and anger lately, this was a welcome change. It would only a few hours more until they were at Geosenge. Maybe Augustine could keep up this feeling for the whole trip. Maybe he could just ignore everything for a week. It would certainly put his mind at ease to cut himself off from the world for a while.

  
  


___

  
  


Morning was dawning on their first day at the cabin. Augustine was up, tiredly scrolling through the contents of his holocaster. He hadn’t been able to sleep for very long, so he sat on a sofa wrapped in a blanket and little else. He was tired of having the mental fortitude of a champagne flute, and was annoyed at his dreams for bringing it up again and again. He shivered in spite of the blanket, and a memory of Lysandre holding him in the forest, warm from his fur lined jacket, sprung to mind. Lysandre was sleeping, but the jacket was hanging by the door.

Augustine Sycamore had always found clothing to be very powerful. Perhaps that was a little of what had attracted him to Lysandre in the first place. He was always so impeccably dressed, a silent command of respect. Augustine, by contrast, preferred to downplay himself in his wardrobe. Lived in laboratory coats covering designer shirts (that he paid far too much for) and vaguely clashing colors to tie it together. He liked to think that it was so if he tried to dress nicely it would be that much more appreciated. The self-analytical part of his mind, a part he liked to ignore, knew he just liked his appearance to match his feelings.

Perhaps that worked in reverse as well. A wave of excitement rushed his chest as he slipped Lysandre’s oversized jacket around him. The one he had bought for Lysandre at the beginning of it all. The one that Lysandre almost always wore.

The waist was cut for a taller, broader man, and had sharp red pockets as a slimming accent. Augustine wondered if Lysandre, who was naturally a little thicker with muscle, had it tailored after receiving it to form a slimmer silhouette. The pockets did little for Augustine’s shape, since they were hanging around his hips instead.The fur lining was soft on his skin, sending warm shivers down his spine and across his waist. It smelled like him, wax-flowers and leather and smoke. Augustine breathed it in deeply. He zipped it up in full but still had far too much collar bone showing, or just enough, depending on your perspective. It was like being Lysandre, but vulnerable. Augustine couldn’t resist running the ball of his thumb, cloaked in the sleeve, from the head of his cock to the base, revelling in the pressure as he pushed himself against his own stomach. He ran the soft leather over himself twice more before he was able to regain his senses and regretfully pulled away, letting his erection lean against the fur lining of the jacket. It was almost as good.

He wanted to wrap himself fully in Lysandre’s powerful clothing but the pants would never work, he realized sadly. Even with Lysandre’s belt at its tightest he fabric would bunch awkwardly. Augustine pouted to himself for a moment but since Lysandre was sleeping there was no one to appreciate it, so he stopped.

There was one more touch that he wanted, and Augustine tiptoed quietly to the bathroom in search of the source of Lysandre’s waxy flower scent. He found the hair putty easily and began to tousle his black locks back while grinning.

  
  


Lysandre was sleeping soundly, wrapped up in the red down comforter. His hair was loose and wild, and he had his arms holding tight to the pillow Augustine used the night before. His face was buried against it. Augustine kneeled over him in the bed, heart fluttering. Lysandre was so oddly peaceful, he hoped that this expression would carry over into their actual vacation at some point. Everything was perfect.

Augustine couldn’t wait to ruin it. He ran his fingers once more through his vaguely styled hair. It wasn’t up like anything Lysandre ever managed, but it was more formed than the wavy locks that Augustine usually tried for. It was almost a mockery of Lysandre’s style. He drew the fur liner up around his cheeks and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Lysandre’s neck, then his ear, then his cheek. Lysandre was starting to stir to life, so Augustine pulled his power-move and ran his hand up the side of Lysandre’s face, tugging at his beard as he went.

Lysandre always opened his eyes with purpose. This time they fixed on Augustine with sharp intent. Taking that as his cue Augustine leaned in close “Lys. I don’t have anything to wear with this jacket.”

Lysandre’s icy eyes flicked down Augustine’s body, draped in the too-large coat, then back to Augustine’s styled hair. Then back down again. And again.

“Buy me something to match.” Augustine said, testing out his commanding tone. For a moment he waited nervously, hoping that he had acted the part well enough. Lysandre scrutinized him before sliding both hands up Augustine’s legs to rest on his naked waist under the leather. He held Augustine there and moved himself underneath so as to get more comfortable.

“Of course I will.” He purred.

Augustine bit his lower lip, excited and triumphant, before realizing that was not an ‘in charge’ gesture. Lysandre gripped his waist harder, pulling him forward slightly. Augustine’s chest tightened, not entirely sure how to keep control of the situation. He grabbed Lysandre by the wrists, pulling his hands away, but then he found himself with two hands in his own and didn’t know what to do. Lysandre tugged his arms down over his head and by some miracle Augustine found himself holding Lysandre’s wrists down into the mattress. Lysandre smiled devilishly at him, even though he had effectively put himself in the restrained position he was still pushing back against Augustine. There was no question who was stronger, but Augustine had the benefit of a better tactical position and his grip held firm.

His head was swimming, this was new, he loved new things. He liked to dive into new things look at them from every angle and commit them to memory for further analysis later. He liked to replay them over and over and over until they were no longer new and he was bored of them even if he had only tried them once. In the spirit of new things he shifted his hold on Lysandre’s wrists to one hand and went exploring with the other. Their frantic months of fucking had always been quick and purposeful, set at Lysandre’s pace. Things got done, and then they had coffee, or got back to work, or left the boutique changing room with as little eye contact as possible. He wanted to linger for a while.

Perhaps moving his grip had been a mistake. Lysandre’s wrists tensed with opportunity and in an violent swap Augustine found him on his back, pushed into the bedsheets with that soft fur lining aching against his erection under full force of Lysandre’s hips.

“I’ll buy you a jacket that fits too.” The words were barely more than a hot breath on his ear.

By some act of fortune Lysandre's hands had not pinned him down in retaliation, but were instead tugging Augustine to him by the jacket pocket. Lysandre was apparently using it as a handle to move Augustine as he wished, sometimes Augustine did the same to Lysandre when he was feeling playful. The difference here was the jacket was too loose for the tactic to work correctly. Augustine wriggled out of his grip, and was rewarded with a look of shock from the larger man. Augustine lunged at him with tackling force, hard enough that the bed shook into the nightstand and sent something clattering loudly to the floor. Augustine brought one hand to his mouth, hoping he hadn't broken anything, even as the other hand held Lysandre down by the chest. "Shit, wha-"

"Ignore it," Lysandre said huskily. Augustine refocused on his conquest who was gazing up at him, his eyes wide and fixated, "Good god, when did you get that strong?"

Augustine's traitor of a brain brought up a fact that was of no consequence to his present activity, as it often did. Male Litleo cubs will frequently let females win while playing even though males are physically stronger. This endears the female to them and strengthens their bond as they grow. It was an inappropriately non-sexual thought for this particular moment. Instead of entertaining this thought he grasped Lysandre by the tip of his beard, moving to the side and pulling as he went.

Lysandre followed obediently, pulling himself up and pushing the jacket away to rest on Augustine’s abdomen. _Obediently_ , the thought of it made Augustines eyes grow wide and a foolish grin crack across his face. With a little touch of frantic need Augustine grappled with the nightstand for lubricant. Finding it, Augustine leaned forward pushing his face against Lysandre’s chest, perhaps kissing perhaps just breathing in his scent. He ran one slick hand over himself tenderly and pushed Lysandre back onto him.

For an instant Lysandre hesitated and Augustine worried that they would fall back to old routines, that he wouldn’t get this new memory to toy with at his leisure. Thankfully it was needless worry, and Lysandre pressed himself down, enveloping Augustine in heat. He fell back into the bed, trying hard to keep his eyes on Lysandre, he knew the man liked it, but it was just so difficult to stay focused. Everything was warm pressure and deep gutteral moans.

Augustine heaved a sigh into the air, warm relief flushing his body, and felt Lysandre shudder a moment after. He risked a shy glance up, welcoming the sight of a breathless and dripping muscular redhead. Lysandre was still leaning over him, looking him up and down in return. The man was so visually oriented, it sometimes made Augustine uncomfortable. “Cut it out” Augustine laughed gently, “stop staring.”

“You’re mine. I’ll look when I want.”

Augustine blushed crimson, hiding his face in his hands, “you dick, don’t say things like that.”

Lysandre pulled Augustine’s hands away from his face gently, “Be quiet.”

“Let me hide! You’re a horrible person," Augustine grinned. It had been intended as a joke, but midway through the sentence it was clear Lysandre had taken it too close to heart. His smile faded and left an expression that had drawn inward, his lips slightly parted with an unasked question, his shoulders sank, and his eyes looked through Augustine to some point beyond. Augustine could never imagine hitting a person, but if he could this would likely be the result. In that next instant Augustine had sprung forward with a kiss of apology and the look was gone. It was a mere second, and neither spoke of it again.


	12. You Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacations are lovely, until they end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature Chapter.
> 
> Also yet again, I am uploading this on a whim because I am tired of preening over it. There will probably be edits later.

Lysandre leaned his forehead against the cool bedsheets as he reached down to retrieve the mega-ring. He had awoken, fearfully, seeing Augustine wearing the jacket. Augustine smiled at him, and a feeling like trust, like comfort, had swelled inside his chest. But he wasn’t caught at all, somehow he never was, and cold fear or maybe animal panic had mixed in to his mind, slurried with arousal and that lingering thread of ‘maybe’. What had he been thinking, tempting fate so much? Augustine could have easily gone rooting around in the pockets at any time. The ring should have been left in Lumiose locked in his desk not sitting heavily in his pocket inspiring fantasies of Augustine finding it, comforting him, understanding.

Lysandre’s fingers groped below the bed and found the heavy ring where it had been tossed. He would hide it properly now. It was only when he held it that he realized how terrified he was of Augustine finding out. The fear was exciting, and a passing thought registered disappointment, but that was a truly dangerous emotion so Lysandre stopped it from taking root.

The shower hissed to life behind the only closed door of the cabin. A loft space took up the second floor, accessible only by a ladder to the right of the bathroom. The master bed was tucked under the loft, opposite the sofa and overlooking a magnificent picture window. Around a corner was the kitchen, which in turn opened to the entryway. Lysandre had taken measure of the space as soon as they had arrived, while Augustine had flopped face-first into the bed. He was asleep before Lysandre had even finished unpacking the coats. Lysandre pulled one from its hook now, a simple black riding coat, and slipped on his boots.

As soon as he stepped onto the porch smells of wet soil and cold, low hanging clouds swirled into Lysandre's consciousness. A hazy fog stretched out from the cabins at a distance, not thick enough to be impressive, just enough to keep focus close, at the cabins, at the pathway, rather than away with the trees and mountains.

Lysandre was struck, suddenly, aggressively, by a kind memory. The memory came with a trail behind it of each previous time he had been struck with wet fall scents and memories. He should not be a surprised at this by now, but he was surprised none the less.

Presently he was wearing clean boots, cracking them purposefully on the stone path. Mentally he was wearing crisp sneakers, streaked with grass and running wildly through the gardens. He was wearing ruined oxfords in a tree, fallen by the pond, walking along the trunk towards the upturned roots. He was wearing sandals and hopping from rock to rock by the lake, far away from the smooth beach of imported sand, searching for shale. They were all the same memory, all of them tied to his eternal childhood daydream.

He was alone in the wild, empty and frantic, abandoned or lost or escaped (it did not matter why). Before he was 6 he had a doll, a baby to care for. It stayed in a cave (behind the sofa in the guest house) and he needed to scour the wilderness (the gardens) for sustenance. He dug up Queen Anne's Lace by the root, and later dandelions when he was scolded for digging in the wildflowers. He brought it back to the burden that consumed his time and made survival that much more difficult, but it was his charge and he protected it.

When his mother informed him that boys did not play 'house' the baby had disappeared in his mind and was replaced with an imaginary pokemon. A Meowth, a Litleo, a Shinx, it didn't matter. The switch was a good one, he wasn't tied to the rock cluster by the river (guest house sofa) any longer. Though he was still tied in a way, for it seemed like his fantasy pokemon were always poisoned and he was eternally running towards the Pokemon Center (a gazebo in the gardens).

He could imagine long runaway trips where they slept in a new den each night. He ventured out into the orchard when at home. Sometimes on vacation at the lake house he could reach the true, honest to god, forest. They ran together, and stole food to survive (from the kitchens, of course). He was alone, he did not need anyone and his imaginary pokemon were hopelessly dependent on him.

Lysandre had opted to take the long edge of the circle path and had just reached the apex. He could see the first edge of forest through the fog and wondered if there were any Pecha berry trees nearby. He had a wild urge to collect them again, to fill a backpack to the top and crush them each, one by one, with a rock. Though, of course, he was an adult now and that would be preposterous. He had a new means to provide, and it was all too real and perfect.

He had made the next switch on his own, when the world around him was being ripped apart and his voice had started to crack. He wasn't sure when or why the pokemon had switched to people, and it didn't really matter. Sometimes it was his father, sick and dying. Sometimes it was his mother, broken from an accident (the imaginary trauma was caused by some complex karma of course, not by _his_ hand). Sometimes it was a child his age, looking up to him, lost and confused and grateful. It morphed and changed so many times and Lysandre stopped caring. The point of it was to run in the forest, alone and needed. Eventually the person was just a means to that end, a faceless, genderless hurt thing.

With a touch of adult hindsight it was curious why he had never considered the benefits of emotional trauma in his youth. It had always been a poisoned pokemon or a broken leg, or a bloody wound. But emotional trauma was much less messy, and lasted longer. It had the benefits of a pokemon companion (dependant, yet still able to leave the cabin and run with him as he wished) and all the benefits of his human object (wanting comfort and love, and reciprocating in kind).

His faceless genderless object was now none of those things, it was a lightly tanned, dark haired, pole of a man and he needed to be protected. Bryony too was injured, in her own cabin on the outskirts of the camp. She would need him. A sudden desire for Aliana's presence struck him. She would complete the set. This was, of course, a foolish thought.

It had been a long time since he had been struck by a daydream and now that he was, he was hungry for it. There will never be  nothing greater than falling away into thought for hours on end, finding a clear trail through the wilderness and meandering there, alone. There was no place for it in Lumiose, and no inspiration besides. It wasn't apparent how much he had missed his own mind until he was reunited with it, but somehow he was at the cabin door already. He had meandered on the paths and even so, it hadn't been long enough. Letting out a defeated sigh, he knocked twice on the door and was greeted with no reply. He had rented every cabin in the town and provided them all with ample space. Still, for some reason he needed to try all three of the girls' cabins before he discovered them piled into the same one. By now he was tired of knocking, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe once as he opened it. He was greeted by the sound of a gurgling coffee maker.

“Good morning sir.” Bryony said with an automatic sort of monotone, half absent. She was buried in a comforter, eyes fixed to the contents of an old leather notebook.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Celisia said, rounding the corner of the cabin. She was already dressed in a demure suit, suitcase and coffee mug in hand. “I have been waiting for an hour. Please tell me I can leave. I can not stand this anymore. And by Arceus’s tail you left the labs with Xerosic in charge and this … random girl in it? Have you gone mad?” Had she not been trying to sip her coffee during this rant Lysandre was sure she would be waving her finger in his face. “We’ll be lucky if he hasn’t gutted the place for copper wiring, or started flicking cigarettes at the kitchen staff. Does he at least have a project right now? Lysandre, please tell me he is engrossed in something.”

“He is watching over Aliana.” Lysandre said and was rewarded with a silent gasp of horror.

“ _No_ , Lys.” Celosia whispered angrily.

“Do not scold me, I’m not a growlithe.” Lysandre said, half bemused.

“This. I-I don’t even.” Celosia waved her coffee mug around like she might smack it into the words she was looking for if she just got the right pattern down.

"They will be fine, Cela.” He took the coffee from her hand and held her palm flat. “Here, when you get back to Lumiose have this set in a new band and kept somewhere secure.” Lysandre said, placing the bracelet in her palm. She dropped her suitcase hastily to accept it with both hands.

"...She really just handed it over." Celosia said. She was turning the ring over in her hands, running a finger over the stone in the surface.

Lysandre tilted his head to one side with a half smile. He wasn't particularly keen on rehashing what had happened, but he couldn't deny the results. Celosia slipped the ring into an interior pocket of her jacket, and reclaimed the coffee from Lysandre's grasp.

“Then I'll be off, to clean up your mess.” Celosia said.

Lysandre kissed her cheek goodbye, “I'd be doomed without you my dear.” Celosia only laughed, a snide burst of air through her nostrils, and was gone.

Mable was hungover on the bed, sprawled out and tangled in a comforter. Lysandre was familiar with the steps to this ritual, having learned it in college, and perfecting it last summer when Mable had insisted on drinking at his apartment every weekend. Lysandre poured her a cup of coffee, shook her shoulder gently, and left her the hell alone.

“You'll want to—”

“Breakfast in an hour, yes.” Bryony said.

“Ah, you two are getting along well then.” Lysandre emptied the rest of the coffee into two mugs. Cream for himself, and an absolutely heinous amount of sugar for Bre.

“She drinks at my place now.” Bryony turned another page in the journal.

“Is that what I think it is?” Lysandre asked, handing her the mug.

For the first time, Bryony broke her gaze from the pages. She peered up at her boss with a grin. “We didn't bother with the rest of the memorial, it's just carvings and scraps of old uniforms. We got the journals. The idiot thought he got away with the valuables intact.”

  
  


It had been exceedingly difficult to leave the journals now that they were finally his, but He couldn't spend all morning lost in them, he hadn't told Augustine he was even stepping out. Bryony had only just started to read through them herself, but she promised to note the most interesting parts.

When he returned to the cabin Augustine was already out of the shower. He sat on the sofa once again wearing Lysandre's jacket, the suede draping around him,making him look even thinner than normal. Lysandre felt a little giddy at the sight.

"Which is why I would like to take on three extra students this year. Please get back to me as soon as you are able to sir." Augustine hit a button on his holo-caster, causing a weight of dread to fall on Lysandre's shoulders. He stomped over, not bothering to remove his boots.

"What are you doing?" Lysandre hissed.

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're back. I think I left my bags in the car. Do you have the keys?"

"Was that a 'cast, or a call?" Lysandre said.

"A 'cast, why?" Augustine looked up at him, frowning curiously.

"You're wearing my clothing, and sending visual media!" Lysandre said.

"Well I needed to make a call and my clothes are still in the car."

"Do you have any concept of secrecy?"

"Do you have any concept of 'I can't send messages nude?'"

"That's what Voice Messages are for, Augustine." Lysandre pressed a knuckle to his forehead.

"Those are so impersonal."

"They're not impersonal, they are a practical alternative to ... never mind." Lysandre said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not the point. Your clothes are here. They're in the dresser. Did you look in the dresser?"

"There's a dresser?"

Lysandre stared at Augustine with blank disbelief. "There's a dresser right there. Your clothes are in it." He pointed to a corner of the cabin that Augustine had apparently never seen before, despite the fact that it was in plain view of every part of the cabin. Augustine looked a little surprised. _Oh my god why am I with you_ , Lysandre thought.

"You... went through my stuff."

"I unpacked it for you."

The professor frowned. "I thought we were only staying a week?"

Lysandre looked at him, unsure what that purpose of this non-sequitur was. He tentatively said, "We are."

"So why unpack?"

"Because we are not _barbarians_ , Augustine."

The professor ran his hand over the back of his neck, ruffling his damp hair. If it was bothering him, he should say something about it, not pout and mess with his hair. He said nothing, _typical_.

 

___

  
  
  


The great old stone columns were quite impressive in person, though it seemed that Lysandre was considerably less impressed than Augustine was. So far Augustine had stopped to inspect each one they passed. Lysandre kept walking on towards their destination, having to pause and look back once he realized he was alone. For the fifth time now doubled back to find the professor kneeling in the grass and poking at the column with a pocket knife.

The professor hadn't seemed to notice that Lysandre had wandered away, so when he returned Lysandre caught the tail end of some lesson. "... intrusions resulting from volcanic activity. When magma pushes into stone that is more susceptible to erosion they form and eventually everything else is eroded away, given the right conditions. It's amazing to have so many form in an area so close together. The size of this lichen suggests its been at the surface for at least two thousand years! Look!"

“I think I saw an eevee over in that patch of flowers.” Lysandre said. He hadn't seen anything of course, but he also didn't want to have to kneel in the dirt just to look at some old moss.

“Really?” Professor Sycamore hopped to his feet, moss forgotten. He started stepping lightly through the grasses and flowers, crouching slightly, eyes focused. “Where? Did it run off?”

Lysandre hid a smile behind one hand, thankful that the professor was facing away from him. “It jumped off over that stone wall just a second ago.”

Lysandre followed through the grasses as Augustine prowled forward. It wasn't until he had one foot on the low stone wall that he turned back. “You're fucking with me.”

“Yes.” Lysandre admitted.

“And you're terrible at it too,” Augustine said with mock disbelief, hopping up onto the wall to peer down at Lysandre. “You can't just say 'yes' and be done with it.”

“I got you all the way over here.” Lysandre said, waving a hand back at the path they had left several meters back. “I am a master of deception.” He placed one foot on the wall, pushing himself up and over to take the lead once again.

“Look at you, wanting to go traipsing around in the dirt all of a sudden.” Professor Sycamore said, hopping down and rushing to catch up. “A few days back I was almost gored by a Tauros and you were complaining about your shoes.”

“Those shoes were genuine Krookodile leather and they are now _completely_ ruined.” Lysandre said, with a shake of his head. “Today I have dressed properly.” He brushed a hand down over his black riding jacket, loosely covering an active wear polo. He had black denim jeans that were tucked into tall lace-up boots.

“That's horrible. You shouldn't buy pokemon skin shoes.” Augustine said.

Lysandre scoffed. “ah ok, but those leather sandals are just fine. And the roast farfetch'd I made you last night was just -”

“That's totally different.” The professor interrupted.

“mm-hm, because you shop at special stores that make sure the pokemon are happy before they die? So they can fully and completely know loss as they look back on the fleeting joys of life while they are slau- ”

“-You are so _dramatic_.” Augustine said shoving his shoulder away. “I invoke the no philosophy rule.” Lysandre had to stop teasing him then, it had long since been agreed that certain matters which they did not see eye to eye on could be dropped at the invocation of this rule. “They were ugly shoes anyway.” Professor Sycamore said, and he darted forward with a playful sneer.

“Oh my god those shoes were gorgeous and now you owe me a new pair.” Lysandre shouted at the professor's receding back. “I'm not running after you. This is not a perfume commercial.” True to his word, he didn't run. If anything, it could be called a reasonable jog.

  
  


___

  
  


As the days progressed It seemed that Lysandre was being pulled tight between two existences. The first existence was constantly peering through the lenses of his reading glasses at a series of old journals. Bryony, recovering through obsessive dedication to work, was frantic with ideas. The two would go off on long rambling thought experiments while pouring over the old notebook. 'what if it only summons one legendary?' (“I hope it's Xerneas,” Bryony said) 'Do you think it is still functional?'(“would you use it, if you could?” Lysandre asked. “I would want to, is that terrible?” Bryony said.) 'What would it look like?'(“I bet it is absolutely beautiful, destructive things have to be beautiful.” Lysandre mused.) The two started a notebook of their own, covering what the found so they didn't end up scribbling in the margins of the journal. Even with this rule, Lysandre still needed to smack Bryony's hand at least once per hour as her pen descended in an excited frenzy to meet the old pages. He ended up taking all of the ink cartridges out of her pens, because taking the entire pen away only caused her to fidget and stutter. She needed something to twirl and chew on to process properly. He would only give the ink back only once he had a firm grip on the journal.

Mable would peer over the two as they did this, but she didn't have the same frantic passion. She perked up when one of the two had an electrical question, themselves only familiar with history, biology and ecology. She would give curt replies while painting her nails. Sometimes she painted Bryony's nails while Lysandre took notes. Once she managed to paint the nail on Lysandre's middle finger black before he noticed. He'd refused to touch the journal for the rest of the day, for fear that it was still wet. Mable rolled her eyes and laughed.

His alternate existence was across the circle of cabins, or rather, the home base for that existence was there. They would sleep there, but really not much more. Augustine had a wild itch to explore the park around them, and Lysandre was more than happy to oblige. He never shared his thoughts, but he began constructing an elaborate fantasy where he and Augustine were the last men on Earth. Augustine would run off to look at some Flabébé or upturned rock and Lysandre would hang back on the path thinking: if we don't chop enough firewood we will never survive the winter. He felt incredibly foolish about it all.

The village was also a favorite destination for Augustine. It was laughably small, with only a handful of permanent residents, but they were all very taken with the couple. Perhaps in part because Lysandre's money had breathed new life into a dying economy. Apparently the land purchase couldn't have come at a better time. With the residents bolstering his ego and Augustine slow but tireless insistence on public affection Lysandre soon found his guard slipping away. Once he had even kissed Augustine under the stone archway leading into the village, in full view of no less than two strangers.

On one clear night nearing the end of the week Professor Sycamore had insisted on having a bonfire to chase away the cool fall air. Bryony hadn't left the comfort of the cabin and the journals until he had promised her s'mores. Lysandre found that, though he didn't particularly like the sticky marshmallow aspect, he was quite talented at roasting them perfectly, and took up the role of official marshmallow maker.

The professor told stories of his childhood. Bonfires that always marked the end of fall, when they would burn piles and piles of leaves to ash among the neatly stacked logs. Lysandre listened from a distance, peering up at the smoky sky, flecks of ember and stars alike floating overhead. Augustine had a large family, he knew, but he was surprised at the presence of them all. Every story had a cast of at least three, and their misadventures and petty thieving were real, not imaginary. The professor had actually spent the night in a buneary den once, along with his brother and sister. He had actually been taught how to make medicine from berry trees, and actually used them to help wild creatures.

At some point Mable produced a bottle of disgusting neon blue vodka and, once they were all good and tipsy, descended upon the professor with her nail polish as he spoke of his time in Sinnoh.

"Don't let her get away with that." Lysandre said.

Professor Sycamore scoffed at him, and held out his hands politely as he recounted stories of field work and his undying hatred of foxgrass. “The little burrs get in everything, right through leather boots if you give them half a chance.” Mable gave him crimson nails, to match his socks, except for his middle finger, which was black to match his boyfriend's single still painted nail. Augustine had laughed. Lysandre had scowled, he thought the term 'boyfriend' sounded childish.

  
  


The fire burned down to embers, Lysandre still twirling the charred end of a stick overtop. Around him the others had fallen asleep. Bryony and Mable curled together beside a log and Augustine draped over Lysandre's lap like a drunk blanket.

Tomorrow was the last full day here, and after that, it was back to Lumiose.

  
  


___

  
  


It was ending too soon, so Lysandre wanted to make sure he had a complete and accurate memory of Augustine Sycamore. He buried his face into his neck, ran his hands as far as the could up his shirt, breathed in every shy laugh as he pressed the man into the limousine seats.

“Lys, what's gotten into you?”

Lysandre didn't reply. He was busy committing the exact tone and cadence of the nickname to memory. Very few people spoke to him so familiarly, so it would be easy to preserve, not get muddled with other voices in his memory.

“Lys, come on. We can't fuck in the car.” The nickname again. _Keep saying it._

“Can so.” He purred, pulling at Augustine's zipper. “My car.”

“Lys.” _Again!_ “The driver will hear.”

“I'll make sure he does, if you want that.”

_Remember that shade of pink_ , Lysandre thought. _Perfect._

“Lys” The tone was warning and playful. _More._

Lysandre dragged his cheek across Augustine's ear, breathing in the scent of his hair “Mon parfait, as well. I'll do what I want.” He whispered, biting his earlobe gently.

The reply was neither agreement or refusal, but more of a nonsensical throaty mess. Lysandre slid his lips down under Augustine's chin to see what other nonsense he could achieve.

Augustine had started unbuttoning Lysandre's shirt from the collar down, grinning as he did. “Do you remember the first time I rode in here?”

“After the banquet, yes.” Lysandre muttered, sliding one hand between the seat and Augustine's lower back, pulling him up to meet his hips.

“You were so mad and bossy.” Augustine said, running a hand over Lysandre's now exposed chest, raking his fingers and lightly pulling on the hair there.

Lysandre pulled back to look at the professor's face, wondering if he was being made fun of. It was a good thing he had, otherwise he would have missed out on this deliciously coy smile, eyes, half lidded Not mockery, a request. Lysandre stamped that into memory as well, right before dropping his hold on Augustine's hips. “Take your pants off now.”

He obeyed in a flash, wriggling under Lysandre's body to pull himself free of both pants and boxers. Giving him space would be more efficient, but the feeling of him struggling underneath Lysandre's pressure was just too wonderful. He leaned down again, running a finger down the space from Augustine's abdomen to his cock, trapping his own hand between them both.

“I can't do this if you're on top of me.”

“Don't backtalk. Do it anyway.”

Augustine made a strange frustrated whimper which ultimately served no purpose except to make Lysandre give him an even harder time. Finally, even with Lysandre holding down his hips and kissing his stomach, Augustine had kicked his clothing free, belt buckle smacking into a window. Augustine blushed that pink again.

For a moment Lysandre was caught, trapped looking at Augustine's body. Trying to ignore the lingering thought, _no matter how much I want it, he's not really mine_. It wasn't fair at all, was it?

The car took a sharp turn and in Lysandre's attempt to maintain his balance he wound up much lower on Augustine's body, and much less concerned with future plans. He flicked his tongue over the tip of Augustine's cock, pulling it into his mouth hungrily. He liked taking Augustine all the way to the base and holding the man's hips down, keeping him still. Augustine always lost control so quickly, whimpering and moaning and begging. He would thrust unconsciously if Lysandre let him, but he didn't let him. Instead Augustine could only tremble. “Lys.” he gasped. _It's too wonderful, that sound_. He pulled back, pressing Augustine's cock between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

“Say it again.” He said, before pulling Augustine back up between his lips.

“Lys, oh, good god, Lys” Augustine said before breaking into a slurred series of yeses and pleading. Lysandre pressed his hands into those shaking hips, running a thumb over the faint outline of hipbone that he loved so dearly. He stole a glance upward to see the professor with one hand tugging on his own hair, eyes closed with an expression between intense focus and complete disarray. The other hand was already grasping at Lysandre's fingertips. Lysandre relinquished his fierce grip and curled their fingers together, holding hands like they were still in the forest.

Augustine made a strained noise that was likely intended to be 'I'm coming', but Lysandre didn't need the warning. The muscles in Augustine's thighs always tightened around his shoulders in the same way, that was warning enough. He pushed his mouth down, and swallowed hard.

Augustine's chest was heaving, stomach caving in and flattening out again. The hand that once tugged his hair was now covering one half of his face as he panted. The sight of him so utterly ruined sent a tense pulse down Lysandre's stomach and up his legs. He dug his fingers like claws into the leather seats and launched himself up, pushing their lips together. There was a delay at first, between when Lysandre kissed and Augustine returned it. He was still out of breath, hazy and uncoordinated.

“Lys. Let – ah. Just let me - Stop it.” Augustine laughed as Lysandre's mouth pressed against his again and again. “Ok, ok, _ok_.” He said finally, his composure returning, hands fumbling at Lysandre's pants. He slipped away from Lysandre's grasp, kneeling on the floor, one hand pushing Lysandre to the seat and the other tugging away the sheer fabric of his slacks.

Augustine always started with a kiss on the end of his cock, a teasing contact that made Lysandre want to hold him down and fuck his mouth. He resisted. Augustine kissed again, and let his tongue flick along the ridge of the head. Lysandre dug his heels into the floor to try and control himself but was unable to hold back a throaty snarl. He hated being teased. He loved being teased. Augustine traced the underside of his cock with tempting kisses. His fingertips were pressed into Lysandre's thighs like he was fighting the urge to take it all into his mouth at once.

Lysandre's hand he found the back of Augustine's head and his fingers were completely tangled in his hair, pulling hard. Augustine flicked his mouth over the head and pulled away, eliciting a stronger pull from Lysandre.

“Do not. Fucking. stop.”

There were few pleasures more intense than when Augustine would stare up at him at he pushed his mouth around his cock.Those eyes were perfect.

Almost perfect.

Lysandre had always thought intelligent men should be required to wear glasses. Visual cues were vastly underrated in modern times with everyone trying to be so individual and unique. Accessories were a statement that could be made from a distance, at a glance, or with a mouth full of dick.

Lysandre reached into the breast pocket of the shirt he had only half taken off to retrieve his reading glasses. It was a true shame that Augustine had good vision. Augustine slid down around him once, and as he pulled back up Lysandre pushed the frames onto his face and said, “Look at me”

Augustine looked up over the top rim, strikingly innocent looking and perhaps a little guilty, like he had been caught reading a book instead of preparing for a class. Lysandre tied both hands into his hair now, pulling him down and thrusting up.

The quick hard motions made the frames slide down Augustine's nose, He had to keep on hand on the temple to keep them still. “God damn it. you're so. Beautiful.” Lysandre managed to growl out, around his gasping.

He tried to be gentle, but ended up pulling Augustine away too hard causing a little whimper. He meant to say 'sorry' but it only came out “aaahhh” when Augustine looked at him. Lysandre freed one hand from Augustine's hair to pull hard on on his cock. The pressure in his body broke and he came in bursting fits, aiming for the glasses and only mostly missing. Augustine flinched each time, and by the second Lysandre realized he was biting into his lip harder and harder with each flinch.

He held Augustine still perhaps a second longer than necessary, just to make sure that got committed to memory as well. When he let go Augustine laughed and called him a dirty bastard, sitting naked on the opposite seat.

Pulling his clothing back to presentable order, a weight began to press in on his chest. Lysandre sometimes called this a 'moment of clarity.' The sudden awareness of his surroundings, thoughts, actions. In this moment, once the euphoria faded, he was left empty. They weren’t far outside the city now, and with each passing mile the clarity only got sharper. Grey dread pressed into his mind. Shame at the way he had acted was there, but not enough to warrant an apology.

Augustine had cleaned himself up with a towel fished from his luggage and now set to untangling his pants from his boxers, a shirt already draped over his shoulders. “I don't really want to go back either.” He said, catching Lysandre's eyes and smiling sadly. He was very perceptive, strange how he never seemed to act on those perceptions.

“Sorry.” Lysandre said, a little surprised. He hadn't intended to say that.

“What was that supposed to be a distraction from?” Augustine said. _On point, why is he so good at reading me?_

Lysandre hesitated. This was where it all came crashing down, he knew it.

“When we get back to Lumiose I... am arranged to meet with someone.” He said, tentatively.

Professor Sycamore pulled up his pants and buckled them in silence, face grim. Finally he said “For business?”

“I suppose, technically, yes.” Lysandre said. “I want you know, it's not particularly my choice.”

“What isn't?” The professor said, expression deadpan with a hint of a frown.

“The arrangement. I don't have to follow through with anything... yet. But I have to put in an effort you see.”

“What effort.” The professor said, frown deepening.

“You know what I am talking about, I've explained-”

“Nope, no idea. You'll have to explain.” Professor Sycamore crossed his arms, scowling now.

“Why, precisely, do you have you be so obstinate about this? I've told you it's not really my choice.” Lysandre barked back.

“It is your choice. You're choosing to play house for your inheritance.”

“I am making a rational choice, given the options. Why do you have to be so mad at me about it?”

“Hm. I wonder. Maybe because I just got tricked into a vacation that was just some elaborate lead in to a breakup.”

“We're not breaking up.”

“Like hell we're not.” Professor Sycamore said, turning sharply to look out the tinted windows. They were crossing under the gates into the city.

“That's not what I wanted this to be.” It was what he was expecting, however.

“What's her name?”

Lysandre looked at the professor, glowering face reflected back at him in the glass. “Diantha.”

Augustine blinked once. “So. You're going to go lark about town with the motherfucking Kalos champion and supermodel besides, then show up at my doorstep at night praying you dodged the paparazzi, for a quick fuck. That's the plan is it? Very rational.”

“You’re making me sound like some kind of fucking asshole here.”

“You could have told me this before the trip.” Augustine said dismissively, still refusing to meet Lysandre’s eyes.

“How do you know I didn’t just find out?” Lysandre sneered back, willing Augustine into this trap with every fiber of his being.

“Oh fuck that. You’ve been acting all fucked up for days.” There it is.

“Fuck you. You _knew_ something was wrong, you _knew_ it. This whole time. And you do nothing about it. You just sit and pretend everything is fine, and I’m here freaking out, putting on an act like everythings OK for _you_. If one hair falls out of place in this you are just right out the door.” Lysandre was vaguely aware that he wasn’t having a fight about Diantha anymore.

Finally, as the limousine was pulling to a stop, the professor tore his gaze away from the window and fixed it with blazing hatred on Lysandre. “Yep, you got it. Right out the door.” He grabbed his bag and ripped the door open furiously.

Augustine slammed the door shut just in time to stifle Lysandre’s shout “Don't you want to know what fucking happened to Cain?”


	13. Finding Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryony goes about her life moving the plot forward and tying the side characters of this story together a little. 'Plot advancement' is on her resume, it's why Lysandre hired her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysandre and Sycamore are both mentioned at least once in this chapter! Even though they're not making googly eyes at one another, imagine their names, reaching across the chapter passionately, forever distanced by Bryony's stupid life, pining for Chapter 14 when they will once again be close together and this story will stop being about evil organizations and once again be about penises touching sometimes.

It was the day after the first snowstorm of winter. Unfortunate shopkeepers who didn't have fire or ice type pokemon were still out shoveling their walks and doorways. Shops that owned by a fire type trainer are always easy to spot by the aggressively salted patch of ice somewhere near their storefront. Bryony hit such a patch and began regretting her particular boot choice. Heels on snow boots had looked adorable when she was out shopping. In reality, she was not quite capable of gracefully tackling this obstacle. She aimed for the still visible salt and tiptoed across at a prancing run. She felt incredibly foolish, but made a point not to glance around and give herself way.

Bryony had agreed to meet Katlyn at Café Soleil. Judging from the elaborate snow decorations at the front of the shop, there was an ice type pokemon somewhere on premises. Bryony pushed open the door, greeted by a gust of warm air and a faint bell. Immediately she began sweating from her layers.

“Bryony, over here!” called a sing-song voice from the corner. Bryony sighed deeply as she pulled off her scarf and made a show of looking around. When she caught Katlyn's eye she nodded once, and motioned to the counter where she could order and forestall their meeting.

In total Bryony had worn a black duster and a deep crimson pullover over a long sleeved cotton shirt. She had a long red scarf, a black knitted cap and a pair of heavy gloves. She pulled off her outer layers, placing them on the countertop distractedly. Her order was precise and she took a sort of pleasure in rattling it off, a revenge on the universe now that her time had come. _Yep, I’m that kind of customer, have fun dealing with it._

The barista looked annoyed. Bryony looked annoyed right back at him.

Coffee in hand, and winter wardrobe in other hand, Bryony walked back to Katlyn's table.

“It has been far too long Bryony!” She exclaimed sweetly.

“Oh my gosh, Katty, I know, I just have no time these days.” Bryony said, organizing her clothing on the seat to her left. “And actually, I don't have much time today.” She sat and looked back at Katlyn. Katlyn was a small girl, thin and wispy with a wavy mass of hair, mostly black with a few dyed stripes, and sharp thick-framed glasses. She tried hard to put out the appearance of a demure librarian who secretly was a brilliant painter if only someone would look closely enough. She was not in fact either of those things. Katlyn was the postgraduate lead of the Pokemon Developmental Biology department at Lumiose University who was secretly a cutthroat bitch if only someone would look closely enough.

“When I heard you were on the market for an egg I got so nostalgic” Katlyn said, pulling out a carefully bundled pokemon egg from the backpack at her feet.

“Thank you so much Katty” Bryony said, taking and placing the egg inside the warm layers of her clothing. “It's such a big help.”

“Are you building a team?” Katlyn asked. She had pulled her own coffee mug up her to mouth and spoke over the rim.

“Its a gift for a friend.” Bryony said.

Katlyn sipped her own coffee with a warm smile, insisting that they go through the motions of catching up. Bryony hadn't been in contact with most of her old department after coming to work at the labs, really she'd only spoken to Professor Sycamore and that was only because they both knew Lysandre. She hadn't spoken to the professor in at least two months now. Katlyn didn’t know anything about that, thankfully. She filled Bryony in on the trivial gossip and inter-departmental power struggles.

“Those idiots in geological biology are in a little feud with the Mega-evolution team.” Katlyn said with a conspiratorial tone. “The lead professor over there is demanding scholarship funding for three additional students to his starter program. Developmental biology should have taken over that program years ago. Theres not enough money for all of the projects, you know, the lesser ones have to go. You're lucky you got out when you did.”

Bryony scoffed into her coffee but if Katlyn noticed, she didn’t react. “It is quite nice to not have to bicker about grants any more.” She said with a careful measure of condescension.

“So I hear.” Katlyn replied. “How are the labs? I heard a rumor that you are in close with the higher ups.”

Bryony took a long sip of her drink to collect her thoughts.  “No, not particularly. The office culture is rather strict.”

Katlyn laid a measuring eye on her. “You did meet with Mr. Lysandre for your interview though. That much I know is true.”

“Oh well for the interview yes. That’s standard practice.” Bryony said dismissively.

“Is your work there going well?” Katlyn asked. “What is it that you are working on again?”

“I am expanding my work on legendary research for the region. If what you say about the old historical department getting cut is true, we'll likely be the only researching body active in that field for all of Kalos.”

“Legendary Research.” Katlyn mused, then added in a low voice, “on Yevetal no doubt,” she smiled sweetly, sending a bristling surge up Bryony’s spine. Not many people knew much about the legendaries outside of those researching it. Was that a jibe at her? Or was Katlyn just listing off a name to sound as if she knew what she was talking about?

“Yes.” Bryony said with half of a smirk on her lips. “on Yevetal and Xerneas.”

Katlyn leaned forward on her elbows, fingers entwined around her coffee mug, “Do you remember, when we were both undergrads, and we were in Mr Matarazzo's Structures class? What a nightmare.”

Bryony smiled, she hadn't thought about that class in a long time. “Oh Arceus, we destroyed that curve.”

Otto Matarazzo enjoyed teaching theory, and hated practical applications. He believed, rather firmly, that if you understood theory you could apply it to a practical situation on the fly. Which is why all of his ‘Learning Opportunities’ were never covered in class beforehand. There were 5 in a semester and after each he would write the grades on the blackboard from lowest to highest. Bryony and Katlyn had taken the class together, along with only 4 other students who hadn’t dropped it outright. When their grades came back from the first Learning Opportunity the list read: 10, 16, 19, 22, 93, 98. One more classmate dropped it, and the remaining three hovered around their study sessions like beggars for the rest of the semester.

“We were a great team.” Katlyn said.

_Ahaha._ Bryony clicked it into place. Katlyn was gunning for a job. Oh how utterly wonderful. So it had been a threat. Yelvetal, legendary pokemon of death. _I'll tell them what happened, and you'll get fired. No one will trust you again. It will be just like last time_. Bryony wanted to laugh, Katlyn thought she had all the cards and she was playing them correctly.

It was a sick and happy thought that came next, and awful twisting of her reality. Death would not haunt her at this job. She was immune to it now. They had protected her against it already, one infinitely worse than some nonsense in her childhood. If Katlyn thought she could use this to bend Bryony to her will again, well that was actually hilarious. What an odd way to find good fortune.

“We really were, way back then.” Bryony said.

“I've been thinking that you really made the right call in leaving the college.” Katlyn said.

“I did.”

“There's just too much politics at the school for my tastes.” _What a laugh_ , Bryony thought. “Do you think you could put in a good word?”

Absolutely not. She began forming together her requisite kind letdown when it occurred to her. She didn't have to. She didn't have to play that politics game anymore.

“No.”

Katlyn's eyebrows lifted just a hair, before she smiled. “We can call it a favor for the egg.” She said kindly.

“There really aren't any positions open at the moment.” Bryony was back into that default kind letdown before she knew what she was saying.

Katlyn smiled, but her eyes were dark, “I'm sure a position could be made available if I spoke with the right people.”

Bryony laughed. A small dark chuckle as she regained her spite. “You tell them whatever you want.” She sat back in her chair and stared Katlyn dead in the eye.

 

___

  
  


“I don't like her” Mable said, scowling into her coffee. “I don't like her, and I don't see why we are tolerating this.”

“Exactly. Exactly what I am saying.” Xerosic replied, jabbing his finger forward to punctuate the point. “It's nonsense.”

“It's fucking bullshit is what it is.” Mable agreed.

The pair turned to Bryony as she lifted her mug, she looked back and forth between the pair, blowing on her coffee. She sipped and only then agreed, “Bullshit.” which was satisfactory, and the pair turned back to one another. One would let the other speak, go to have a sip of coffee as they waited for their turn, and then slam their mug down to rebute an unseen disagreeing party in their mind before ever taking a sip. This signaled the tradeoff to start ranting and the show would continue on, in mirror.

They were ultimately having different arguments with no one in particular and only agreeing in happenstance. Bryony couldn't participate with anything other than vaguely shared rage, lest she be accused of not listening by either party. It wasn't a bad position to be in. She did agree with both of them, of course, and she was listening to both of them, of course, but her actual opinions didn't particularly matter and that was fine.

Xerosic was off on a rant about wasted resources. He and Celosia were forever at one another's throats about finances, which was a problem, because Celosia actually controlled where the money came from and went while Xerosic had to suffer her decisions. She was still focused on the 'diplomatic' option for Kalos, and Xerosic had long since written off that method. “It's insufferably slow.” Was the primary complaint, or, more often “Bitch loves to waste my fucking time.”

Mable was, unsurprisingly, complaining about Diantha. Her traditionally diverse ire had been focused squarely on Diantha for most of the winter. Mable had been holding firm to the position of 'the beard' for years now, she had carved herself a nice little niche. Unfortunately, she had no status, no heritage, no titles. Diantha was a better match for Celosia's Kalos Plan. Interestingly enough, Diantha seemed to be going along with it as well. Cela and Diantha were all business, Diantha had just chosen to conduct herself in the public eye and Celosia behind the scenes, two sides of the same coin. Bryony was comfortable with Diantha, she spoke plainly and was to the point, and Lysandre liked her well enough in any case. Unfortunately it was painfully obvious that he wasn't interested in the role he had been thrust into. Lysandre regarded her like he might regard a wild Deerling that had wandered close: motionless, curious, and certainly not wanting to have sex with it.

The pair switched once again in mimicry of conversation, and Xerosic took the lead. The cafe was empty fortunately, but it wasn't like he had bothered to look before launching into his not-quite-cryptic enough opinions on the weapon in Geosenge. They could take Kalos and rebuild it in one swing. Bryony had to admit, it was alluring. Just to see the legendaries of course. Only to see them up close, to prove or disprove her theories. Although bring it up outside of the laboratory seemed almost rude.

Mable was about to interrupt him when the cafe door opened and, in a rare show of restraint, Xerosic stopped talking. Celosia and Malva had arrived at long last. Before Bryony could so much as wave, Xerosic was up and over to Cela, starting a few steps back in his rant, though not quite making it all the way to the beginning. Malva rolled her eyes and strayed towards their table.

Malva pulled up a chair next to Mable, who had already dismissed the entrance and was back on her own topic. “A relationship is a two way street, Bre.” Bryony hadn't been listening well enough to know what she was talking about, she redoubled her focus. “If he would just listen to me, he would be so much better off. I've been there for years, and where have I gotten him?” Mable waved to the cafe, and gestured vaguely towards the offices, apartment and finally the labs. “What is she going to do? Screw him over, that’s what.”

“Literally.” Malva said, but Mable didn't seem to notice.

“She's gunning for this because she thinks she'll end up with the power.”

“Yea, what a horrible person, manipulating someone for the sake of power.” Malva chirped with a wry smile at Bryony. Bryony hid her smile with her mug.

“And I bet.” Mable said, without acknowledging Malva once again, “Lys doesn't even see what she's up to.”

“Does your entire life fail the Betchdel test, or is this conversation misleading?” Malva sneered.

Mable raised her eyebrows in a show if surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry Malva, I didn't see you arrive. I should have guessed when my pussy dried up like a _fucking cracker._ ”

Malva had cracked a wide smile in reply, unable to match Mable's venomous glare. Luckily Cela and Xerosic were now returning from the counter, at the tail end of their conversation.

“Slower yes, but no one will even know we've got it all until we've got it all.” Celosia said, standing purposefully between Malva and Mable, dismissing her conversations and demanding the attention of the group. “May, brought up the issue of power already, which is a point of great concern.”

Xerosic shot Mable a look of utter betrayal.

Mable looked at him for a moment, then back down at her mug, and finally up at Celosia with a resolute sigh. “If we repurpose it to use the power grid we'll just end up shutting down a huge part of the city and draw attention, the energy conversion process would take days at best.” She paused for a moment. “The only alternative I can see is to use the original power source directly.” She shifted a little uncomfortably.

Celosia nodded once, satisfied that her point was made, and turned towards the laboratory entrance. With a dissatisfied sigh Bryony stood to follow was was held briefly by a hand on her shoulder.

Celosia was already leading the way into the labs with Malva and Mable bickering at her heels. Xerosic was holding her back a few paces, not saying anything or looking at her. His hand was tapping the air, as if counting. When he reached a satisfactory number he nodded for Bryony to continue and they proceeded towards the labs.

“So, here’s the thing, we are getting it going on electric power I don’t even give a shit, we’re powering it up,” Xerosic said quietly. “So brainstorm with me on that.”

“Eh…” Bryony started. “Mable has a point.” Bryony tossed a smile at the security guard at the end of the hallway.

“Ugh, what? Fuck off.” Xerosic said. “Think on it anyway.”

Bryony hesitated a moment, walking the familiar path to her office. “Sure, but, its not really my forte.”

“Yea, ok, sure. But you’re -”

Aliana had taken to pacing the halls in an absent daze as of late and though she did not collide with Xerosic, she did veer off asymptotically with a little squawk of surprise.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” She forced a smile.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Not great. Bre” She addressed Bryony a few seconds before actually looking at her. “It’s not really working out.” In her arms she was holding a pokemon egg gently, “It's a terrible idea. I'm not going to be able to... I'm just going to release it. You really wasted your time, Bre.”

Bryony looked at Xerosic with a smile. “I’ll think on it, lets talk in a few hours.” She turned back to Aliana, “You won't though. Trust me on this.”

Xerosic nodded, and the girl fell silent as he left.

“He's just going to... be able to see.” Aliana said, checking that the hallways was clear and lowering her voice. “He'll know.”

“Maybe. But that’s ok. I know, and I'm still here.”

Aliana fell silent for several paces.

“It's different.”

The urge to disagree was hard to ignore, but it wasn't what Aliana needed. Bryony closed her eyes. It hurt her to see Aliana torturing herself over the death of her Charizard, and it was terrifying to see Aliana flounder through her grief and make all of the same mistakes over again. Releasing her own pokemon had been the single worst day of Bryony's life, although even now she wasn’t sure if she would stop herself, given the opportunity. When she came back to Lumiose she found out that Aliana had done the same, for the same reason, in the same way, and everything inside her fell away to darkness. She should have thought about what Aliana was going through before she ran off to dick around in Geosenge for so long.

“Lets keep walking.” Bryony said. “he’ll hatch soon, I’m sure.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Then why are you pacing around the labs with him?”

Aliana scowled up at her, but didn’t reply, and the pair walked on in silence.

The pokemon lifecycle as a whole had always been widely unknown. Birth was still a mystery. With all of the study and all of the hours spent in research even professional breeders barely knew where eggs came from. Birth, at least, was studied. Death was not, it was too taboo. By all accounts and by all research pokemon did not have to age or die. Have to being the key phrase. When a pokemon died it was invariably due to neglect, or abuse. If your pokemon die, you are the problem, no second chances. At least in humans death could be studied, because humans had to die, as grim as it was, you'd may as well study it if it was going to happen anyway. But pokemon didn’t have to, so how could someone reasonably conduct a study to learn more about death? How could someone set out into the scientific world to prove that it wasn’t their fault that their petlil had stopped living through no fault of their own? How could someone clear that mark on their life when everyone assumed they intentionally ended a life that never had to end?

Bryony didn’t have any real answers, even though she had never stopped trying to find them. What she did know was it didn’t help to live without pokemon, even if you needed to enter yourself in the online registry and you were barred from the league and you needed to go to weekly check-ins at the pokemon center where the nurse looked at you like a criminal and…

Bryony took a few deep breaths.

They walked on.

“You know what’s really fucking stupid?” Aliana said suddenly.

“Tell me.”

“I really liked studying Megas. It was fucked. There was that instant where… where I was excited to have discovered,” Her breath caught.

Bryony stopped and held Aliana’s arm to pull her back. She wrapped her arms around Aliana and pressed her chin against the crown of her head. The egg shook between them.

“You can still study them. No one is stopping you.”

Aliana shook her head into Bryony’s shoulder. After a few minutes she muttered, “It’s too much for a regular pokemon. It’s like shoving a legendary into their skin.”

And just like that, Bryony had a solution to their power concerns.


	14. Wilting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augustine Sycamore texts like a 13 year old from the 90s, gets drunk, and proceeds to not deal with life very well at all.

There was a faint click and light flooded over his wooden desk, cutting through the low illumination from the street lamp that Professor Sycamore had been using previously. He had never really gotten used to the early darkness of winter. He registered that his eyes no longer felt so strained, he registered a faint presence waiting for his attention, but he was midway through the final application for that spring's Starter Program and he couldn't afford to lose focus quite yet. He had whittled the initial applications down to twenty. Even though he already knew this was not making the cut he always offered the courtesy of reading a student's entire essay.

When the professor looked up, tiredly rubbing his eyes and placing the paper into a growing stack of rejected applications, Sina smiled at him from the other side of the desk. "We are going to get some coffee, would you like to come?"

Professor Sycamore paused with his fingers over his eyes, processing the request. "It's Friday evening. Coffee? Really?" He smiled, pulling his fingers away from his face to punctuate his disbelief.

"We always get coffee after work." Sina said, waving her hand absently towards the door frame and Dexio.

The professor chuckled "It's not 'after work' if you, Dex and I simply change the room in which we discuss research."

"I'll invite Clemont then."

Professor Sycamore caught the frown and turned it inward a fraction too late, a hint of it crossing his face. The boy was brilliant, sure, but well... "How about a bar instead?" The Professor said.

Sina let her shoulders fall, but still smiled "I thought you were friends"

"I think that it would be a good change of pace is all. Come on, I never see you out with the other students."

"Not everyone likes a bar, Professor."

"Oh nonsense, when you're old like me you'll look back on all of those bars and get all manner of nostalgic. You won't even be able to remember anything past 10 PM, and that makes the nostalgia worse." He shooed them out of the room, grabbing his coat as he trailed behind.

 

___

  
  


To their credit, it was a valiant attempt. The bar Augustine had chosen was loud enough to mask the oppressive silence between the three. One drink in Augustine was able to control himself and not talk about how it was when he was a student, but wasn’t sure what else he could bring up. He tried to ask about the usuals; relationships? (none), hobbies? (asking ‘what is reddit?’ ended up being an exercise in confusion for Augustine), in desperation he’d gone for sports (they’d all looked around politely and silent).

Dexio was not grasping the concept of the evening, if the conversation died for more than a few seconds he had a question about evolution, or mass spectrometry. Jumping back hours in conversation, and then needing to lead the group back with him. By the time Augustine realized he was midway to a lesson he would stumble over his words and falter. After a few drinks Augustine was slipping and talking about his days as a student, catching himself after a sentence and finishing the story with a grimace.

Augustine was the first to give up. When the conversation fell back to work he let it slide over him, offering little. Sina and Dex went on between themselves for some time, turning to the professor occasionally for what would normally be his turn to talk, and instead getting a halfhearted ‘yea.’ In the end, the group had parted ways, Augustine promising he was going to head straight back to his apartment, and not even feeling a little guilty about lying to his students.

So the professor found himself drunk on a bench, watching gluttonous snowflakes clump in between the strands of hair that covered his face. His arms were stretched across the back of the bench, legs kicked out, taking up as much room as his small frame would allow. He could feel the warmth from the alcohol flooding out of him into the cold night air. It was lovely, drinking always made him too warm.

What always happened next? He would be found. By someone. He would be found by someone he wanted to find him. Augustine was always being found by people, he never really needed to go anywhere and want for company. He would be found by a friend or a soon-to-be-friend and if they were beautiful he would pretend to be cold, and they were always beautiful, and he was never cold.

At some point along in his life his friends had been replaced with younger versions of themselves, and then again four years later. At some point along in his life he felt less comfortable playing too drunk, or being too drunk. He hadn't really learned what it was that he was supposed to do to find company instead, had he? So he wandered off alone and pretended to be too cold for the amusement of the street lamps. The ratio of soon-to-be-friends got higher, and he never ended up making friends with them at all. His friends got younger, and his old friends got married.

Though his vision was rapidly being obscured by both hair and snow, the professor turned his gaze outward, annoyed at this particular bout of unwanted self-analysis. He was drunk and having fun. It wasn't a metaphor. Or, it was a far too literal metaphor to be taken seriously.

Augustine was on the cusp of a circle of light, cast by a nearby lamp post. He had chosen this spot specifically to avoid being such a dramatic spectacle that he needed his own spotlight, but still it was nice to be out of the dark. Snow was falling lightly around him, manifesting into existence some fifteen feet over his head, formed from the darkness itself as though conjured by a sneasel looking out for his romantic imagery.

There were a few other cones of lamp light scattered across the darkness, manifesting their own snowfall. Augustine made no show of gazing out at each one lazily in turn, dancing around his own awareness coyly. _Ah yes,_ he thought, _That empty patch of road, lovely, I’ll look there for a while_. Then without moving anything but his eyes, _Ah, of course that bench with nothing on it and no interesting features._

Inevitably he finally came to the reason that he had flopped down on this particular bench. Torn between the options of walking past while drunk (and oh Arceus he would say something in this state), and turning around like a coward, Augustine had opted to fall onto a bench in defeat.

It was undeniably Lysandre, even from a distance he was easy to pick out. He sat hunched over a wire table on the patio of his cafe, smoking intently, thumbs tapping rapidly on a screen in his hands. Across from him was... Sycamore would have guessed brother by the hair color, if he didn't know better. The pair seemed friendly and Augustine had no doubts that Lysandre was not particularly fond of family. A little stone fell into the bottom of his heart for a moment, was he...

But the man turned slightly and any thoughts about 'new lovers' were stricken away with a sharp chuckle. Augustine didn't like to be judgemental, but he did like to be honest. Lysandre was driven by looks and this person was not going to fit those expectations by a long shot. For a moment Augustine preened at the indirect compliment he had given himself, before rolling his eyes and frowning at his own vanity.

He was careful not to move his head in their direction, not wanting to give Lysandre even a moment of satisfaction thinking Augustine might be interested in talking to him. Besides, Augustine knew well enough that at this late hour with these melancholy thoughts and all of those Whiskey Gingers in his stomach, he was in a prime mindset to make regrettable decisions.

He kept his eyes trained on them though, as they discussed whatever was on that screen with great intensity. The other man, it seemed, needed to wave his hands around as he spoke, causing little flurries of snow to fall from his shoulders with each point made.

They passed the screen back and forth, and Lysandre lit a second cigarette quickly on the heels of the first. Augustine frowned at that, Lysandre had quit but it never seemed to take. It was unfortunate to see him picking up the habit again, but, well maybe he had started after their breakup. That thought was disgustingly pleasant.

Lysandre had kicked his legs out beside the table in a telltale angry slouch. He was pointing at the screen that the other man now held. The other man said something in reply, clearly irritating Lysandre, because his hand clipped to the bridge of his nose and a deep billow of smoke poured out of his lips. He flicked away the half-smoked cigarette with his free hand.

Augustine's holocaster buzzed. Shaking snow from his jacket and reaching into his pocket Augustine saw a string of 7 digits as the sender, rather than a familiar name.

 

_Just happened to see you passed out on a bench. I can arrange a cab home if you need one. Don't freeze to death._

 

Augustine looked at the patio from the corner of his eye, careful not to move his head in that direction. Lysandre was still slouched down in the chair, but the screen was back in front of him and he was typing, finishing by tossing the holocaster into the snowy table.

Augustine's phone buzzed again.

 

_Nevermind_

 

Augustine pulled off his gloves and tapped out a reply:

 

_who r u with?_

 

But then he deleted it. Lysandre didn't know Augustine saw him back.

 

_stlking me now?_

 

He frowned, added a 'lol' and then deleted that message as well.

 

_dont b sweet to me i Am just enjyin th sn owonmywyhom_

 

Augustine sneered at his screen, which was becoming wet with melting snow. It made it hard to type coherently. The drinking and his rapidly numbing thumbs notwithstanding. In any case, he didn't want to appear like some spastic teen incoherently jabbing attention seeking lies into the keyboard. He deleted that message, wiped the screen clean, and carefully replied:

 

_i'm fine._

 

He hit send defiantly and stood up from the bench. Tapping out a second message as he walked home.

 

_thanks tho_

 

__

  
  


Professor Sycamore had stolen away between classes to just flick to the next chapter in a novel he was devouring, just to read the first sentence, just to make sure his favourite character had survived.  Then, twenty minutes later, the chapter was over. The book was over. It ended.

There were no less than thirty remaining traitorous pages of maps and character family histories, and not, in fact, another secret chapter where Alice had lived happily ever after.

This of course meant that the professor's lunch hour was completely and irrevocably ruined.

This of course meant The professor was horrifically bored. Presently Professor Augustine Sycamore sat on a bench inside the Lumiose museum's small international cafe, before a haphazard tray of foods. Vegetable Sushi, fried combusken, an apple turnover, and lemonade. If he had a book, he probably wouldn't be testing his fortitude against ever larger dollops of wasabi.  

As it turns out, it isn't Liquor or Loneliness that Professor Sycamore wilts for, it's boredom.

Knowing full well what he was doing, and yet pretending to be staunchly surprised when it happened, Professor Sycamore flicked through his contacts list. He passed 'Lisa - green eyes' and hit 'Michael - Anthropology' before closing his contact list. Not because there was a name missing that he was looking for, not at all, Its just that M is halfway through the alphabet, which is really most of the way if you think about it, and if he hadn't found anyone good to talk to by the time he was most of the way through, almost all the way really, then there was no one interesting on his contacts list.

Somehow he ended up in his recent messages menu. It was really just habit. He didn't mean to be there.

He had a habit of texting Sina or Dexio alternately even in the same conversation, and more often than not the other one would reply, so the conversations between them were all but unreadable.

Then there was this completely known unknown number. Augustine opened the messages, faked surprised in his own mind, got annoyed at how stupid he was, and typed out:

 

_talk to me about something that isn't pokemon_

 

Then he dropped his phone face-down and got about intently eating his lunch.

His phone buzzed and was in his hands before he knew what was happening.

 

_Are you feeling ok, Professor?_

 

Augustine laughed to himself and typed out his reply.

 

_very funny_

_i think i am going through a mid-life crisis_

 

It was awkward to eat with just his left hand, but he didn't want to put down the phone because it made such an awful rattling on the glass table. It buzzed again.

 

_That is alright, I have been having one since I turned 20._

 

Augustine was absolutely positive that message was typed out with dead-pan seriousness, and Augustine's shoulders shook just a little in his attempt to not look like a maniac, laughing alone in the cafe. This wasn't good.

Augustine looked intently at his fingers, holding the phone, and decided that he needed to shoot himself in the foot right away or else he was going to do something infinitely dumber.

 

_how are things with diantha?_

 

He didn't get a reply.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I like drawing scenes from this fic, I try and keep previous chapters updated with all pictures I've drawn, but if you don't want to have to check old chapters to see if you missed any, just [check my tumblr.](http://dustatdusk.tumblr.com/)


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